Causality
by tromana
Summary: Death isn't always the end. Who'd have thought that Angela Ruskin would be the one to introduce Jane and Lisbon? AU loosely based on the movie/musical, Ghost. Jane/Lisbon, Jane/Angela. Written for the Mentalist Big Bang 2011.
1. Chapter 1

****So, ****here it is, my Big Bang epic for 2011. It's a little bit different and it takes a little time to get going, but I really hope you'll take a chance with it. Thanks go to Miss Peg and Brown Eyes Parker, without whom, this fic would probably have been consigned to the scrapheap a long while ago.

x tromana

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><p><strong>Title: <strong>Causality**  
><strong>Author: <strong>**tromana****  
><strong>Rating: <strong>****T******  
><strong>Summary: <strong>******Death isn't always the end. Who'd have thought that Angela Ruskin would be the one to introduce Jane and Lisbon? AU loosely based on the movie/musical, Ghost.********  
><strong>Disclaimer: <strong>********I don't own The Mentalist, or Ghost. I just have crazy ideas like this one.**********  
><strong>Notes: <strong>**********Written for The Mentalist Big Bang 2011. Thank you to my wonderful beta-come-cheerleader, miss_peg and my artist, browneyesparker for the wonderful art to go alongside it.

**Causality**

**Part One**

"It's perfect, I _love _it, Patrick."

She placed a kiss firmly against his lips and he smiled into the embrace. Immediately, he wrapped his arms tightly around her waist and lifted her slightly from her feet. As he placed her back down, she was grinning from ear to ear. This was what happiness felt like, Jane decided. It must have been, because otherwise, why else would he have felt like his heart was bursting with joy and unable to stop smiling, even for a second? If it wasn't happiness, he wondered just what would be able to top this moment. He shivered slightly with anticipation. There was a certain small velvet box in his jacket pocket, but it wasn't the right moment. Not _quite_ yet, anyway.

This was their first home together, their first real home. Before now, they had only been renting and before that, well they had been constantly on the move. That had always been the curse of a carnival lifestyle; never being able to settle down for long enough in one place to really be able to call it _home_. It was what they had been dreaming of, ever since they had first agreed to start dating. She had mentioned how desperately she wanted, needed to leave the carnival circuit and Jane had been determined to make it happen for her. And Angela Ruskin didn't deserve to just 'make do' once she finally made her great escape; she deserved the best.

Jane hadn't told Angela that he had been slowly squirreling away money for precisely this moment. He had wanted it to be entirely a surprise. They had chosen the home together, though that had been stressful enough in itself. He'd wanted to move to L.A., it was closer to work and therefore, more practical. She had preferred Malibu and its sandy beaches. In the end, they'd settled for Sacramento. Though it wasn't the place either of them really wanted to be, there was a certain charm when it came to the state's capitol. When they had been faced with a home so spacious, so beautiful, Angela had immediately fretted about furnishing it. It was one thing keeping on top of the mortgage repayments and another entirely to make sure it had everything they needed to make their gorgeous new home comfortable.

"Where did the money come from?"

Angela was frowning as she asked. Jane had told her that he'd been working with the CBI in their L.A. branch, to help solve some of the more complex cases they came across. The move to Sacramento meant that he could continue with his work there. Naturally, she had been entirely proud of him for that. He was using the skills that he'd picked up while working on the carnival trail in a far more honorable manner. She had entirely believed that he had stopped fleecing vulnerable people for all they were worth. However, it was obvious that he couldn't have offered everything from the meager salary he got from them. Heck, as he was _just_ a consultant, it didn't even cover things such as dental. If he had even been able to make meager savings from that line of work, he wouldn't have been able to provide her with everything he wanted to.

He had hated the fact he had been lying to her, but some things were like second nature to him. Unfortunately for Jane, lying had been one of those habits instilled into him since birth by his father. It was something he found difficult to quit and somehow, however much he tried, he always fell back into his old ways. Besides, continuing with his psychic act had been the only way he knew how to support her. Their lifestyle hadn't exactly been conducive to learning skills required for office work or the like, so he had simply done the best he could with what he had. Still, he couldn't stand the idea of her finding out; he knew that she would be so disappointed in him, if she did. That was why he hadn't told her he was still practicing as a psychic, or not yet, anyway. There were still a couple of things he hadn't told her and knew he needed to before she found out from other sources.

"Patrick…"

"Yes?"

"You're still seeing clients, aren't you?" she said, almost whispering.

"Yes," he repeated, sounding sad and small this time around.

"We left for a reason, so that we didn't have to do that anymore!"

"I did it because I love you," he said, grabbing hold of her hand. "Angela, please…"

She shook his hand off and stared at him searchingly. There weren't many people who could make Jane feel small and insignificant, but she was one of them. And that was the reason he generally tried to avoid disappointing her; he couldn't stand letting those he loved down. Nor did he particularly enjoy being belittled, but then again who did? It was just he had developed a bigger ego than most and therefore, found it harder to tolerate it when people knocked him. Except with Angela. If he let her down, then he constantly had to try and find ways to make it up to her, to make it all better. Her disappointment at their previous apartment, which was the size of a postage stamp, with shabby furniture to match, was half the reason he wanted their new place to be fit for a princess.

"I'm going for a walk," she replied, albeit sadly. "I don't know when I'll be back."

"Angela…"

He remained stock still and heard the door slam as she left. Half of him was convinced that he'd blown it, that she wouldn't actually bother to come back at all. Jane had known her ever since they were small, had loved her since then, but it had taken him years to persuade her to even date him. Mostly because when she was seventeen, she had been hurt badly by her then-boyfriend. He'd tried to approach the subject with her, had several hunches about what had happened, but no concrete evidence. She certainly didn't want to revisit it, but there were times when she obviously had no choice but to. And they were almost always interlinked with times when she was lied to. The woman was desperate to build a relationship on truth and honesty and yet, he had happily shot himself in the foot. All because he wanted to impress her, to make her feel like she was worth every penny. As he sat down on the couch, with his head in his hands, he wondered briefly if it had been worth this.

xxx

Teresa Lisbon drummed her pen against her desk irritably. She was bored. Which, given her line of work, was something which didn't happen all that often. And when it did happen, she quickly grew frustrated. Half the reason she loved her job so much was because she was always on the go, always had something to stimulate her. It never gave her a chance to stop and think about anything that could possibly be missing from her life. There was always another case to solve, another criminal to apprehend. Or at least, there usually was. If there was right now, then she wouldn't have been stuck in her office, staring at her phone as if it had caused her a personal offense.

Realistically, she knew that she should have been glad that she wasn't busy. It was a good thing when cops were bored. If she had something to do, then that meant another innocent person had lost their life and another family had been utterly destroyed. That was a situation she understood all too well and it was half the reason she had wanted to go into homicide in the first place. Yes, her mom's death may have been an accident, technically speaking, but it didn't mean that she couldn't empathize with the devastation the loss of a loved one caused.

Still, Lisbon needed _something _constructive to do. She was on top of her paperwork, had prepared for upcoming court testimonials and they didn't even have any cold cases she could look over. And yet, she was still stuck at work, waiting for her phone to ring while the rest of her team wound each other up in the bullpen. That was the problem with a gathering of highly intelligent people; they all knew how to press each other's buttons. It was half the reason she was wisely staying out of it. However, she was more than aware that if things went too far, she was the one responsible to break it up again. Vaguely, she heard the thud of a bouncing ball going astray, followed quickly by a complaint from Van Pelt, apparently trying to focus on the little work they had. She was always eager to please, that one.

A little while later, though she couldn't be sure whether it was minutes or hours, Cho knocked abruptly on her office door. Silently, she beckoned him in, relieved to have some sort of distraction. By this point, she didn't even care if it was simply a request to leave early, at least it was something to do. He didn't sit down; he never did. Instead, he stood directly opposite her and looked her square in the eye. Lisbon knew she couldn't expect any small talk from Cho, he simply wasn't the type. Even when there was little else to do but chat, he liked to get straight to the point of whatever it was that was on his mind.

"Yes, Cho?"

"Minelli wants to see you," he stated quickly, just as she expected.

"Now?"

"Now," he confirmed.

She stood and he automatically moved aside for her. Lisbon nodded in gratitude as she headed towards her door and Cho fell into step behind her. They walked a few paces together, in companionable silence, before he paused at the entrance to the bullpen.

"Cho?"

"Yes, Boss?"

"Stop winding up Van Pelt. She's still settling in," she said in a low voice.

"Yes, Boss."

Quietly, she hoped that Minelli had news of a case or two for them. That would give them all something to do and would finally give Van Pelt something to get her teeth into. Since she started, they'd been given no major cases and Lisbon didn't want her getting disillusioned about the job. Usually, it wasn't this quiet, this was just a very rare occurrence. In fact, in her whole career to date, she could only think of two other occasions when she had been this bored and frustrated at work.

Minelli smiled slightly as she stepped into his office. Shoving her hands in her jacket pocket, she closed the distance between them and stood in front of him. It was almost exactly the same position that Cho had stood in front of her merely minutes beforehand. She smirked slightly at the thought of Minelli doing the same with the CBI director, whenever he called to update him on something or other. There was always somebody else to report to, in any job.

"You wanted to see me, Boss?"

"Take a seat, Lisbon."

Immediately, she complied. Lisbon liked Virgil Minelli quite a lot. He always treated her with the respect she deserved, which was a lot more than some of the other, more chauvinistic, men in the agency. When she had moved from the San Francisco department, less than six months ago, he had welcomed her with open arms and immediately given her a lead agent position. That was despite her relative youth and of course, her gender. She appreciated that he immediately had faith in her and trusted that she would do a good job. And thus far, with his guiding hand, she had settled in well. Had gathered together a team that she felt would work together well. Was even trusted with fresh blood in the form of rookie agent, Grace Van Pelt.

"How are things with your team, Lisbon?"

"Good," she answered automatically.

"And how is Van Pelt settling in?"

"Well, I think. Though in all honesty, they're a little bored, Boss."

"About that…"

She glanced down to see a manila folder in his hands. His fingers rested protectively over it, but that wasn't unusual. Lisbon was relieved. Although she didn't know what it contained yet, she knew that it was probably exactly what she had wanted. A case. They all came in folders like that one and thus, it meant her over-stimulated and bored team would finally have something to do with their time.

"As you know, Marvin Farrington of Major Crimes has opted to take an early retirement."

Lisbon nodded, wondering what the hell Major Crimes' staffing crisis had to do with them. She know Farrington, albeit vaguely, and couldn't blame him for his decision. His eldest daughter had just given birth to his first grandson and thus, he wanted to spend some time with his family before something happened to him at work.

"You will be working the Red John case."

"I will?" she answered, gob smacked.

"Yes, you're the most qualified for the job."

"Thank you, sir, I appreciate it."

"Do me proud, Lisbon."

"I will, thank you," she repeated, more than aware that she was sounding a little like a broken record.

She accepted the manila file gratefully. It was heavy, but then again, there had already been a lot of Red John murders. It was the one case that everyone wanted to work on, but nobody seemed capable of solving. Even though she had only been with the Sacramento office for a relatively short period of time, it had already passed through two sets of hands. And now, it was hers. Silently, she made a vow that it would end with her. Too many families had already been hurt and it was her job to ensure they had some form of redemption.

"One more thing," Minelli said as she stood to leave.

"Yes?"

"Have you heard of Patrick Jane?"

"No," she answered honestly.

"He's a psychic and he will be consulting on the Red John case," Minelli said, albeit rather bluntly. "I suggest you look into him."

**TBC...**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: **I just want to promise there will be some J/L interaction soon; the first couple of chapters or so are mostly setting the storyline up! Sorry for the slowish pace, but I didn't want to rush it.

Thank you to: Country2776, In The Name and TwilightLover-CarlisleandEsme for reviewing part one.

Finally, Paint It Red has just opened nominations for the Paint It Red awards, which celebrates the best fic and artwork the Mentalist fandom has to offer. If you know of some deserving nominees, please sign up to the forum and nominate!

x tromana

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><p><strong>Part Two<strong>

"Remind me _why_ you have to do this now?"

"It all happened so fast, Angela," he replied as he smoothed back his hair with gel. "I honestly forgot I agreed to it."

"But this isn't just you fleecing one vulnerable person, there's millions of people out there who'll believe you're…"

She trailed off, but Jane knew exactly where she was headed. It was all to do with her aversion to secrecy and lies. Just because she wasn't the victim in this particular scam, it didn't mean that she felt any less passionate about it. Angela seemed convinced that everybody reacted as violently to being duped as she did. And to make matters worse, if he could lie to complete strangers about the existence of ghosts and the paranormal, then it was just another small step to him lying to her again. It had already happened once, with him concealing the existence of his second job. From there on in, it was just a slippery slope. Somehow, he had to convince her that that specific lie had just been a one-off, that he wouldn't do it again anytime soon.

"I'm sorry."

"But you always say that."

"No I don't."

"To me, you do," she clarified.

He sighed heavily in response. Angela was right, of course she was. There was hardly ever a time when she _wasn't_. Jane watched as she shook her head lightly, her blonde curls bouncing as she did so. Though she had been angry about the fact that he had continued practicing as a psychic, she was even more furious about television interview he was about to give. Therefore, when she had reluctantly agreed to accompany him to the station, he had been taken completely off-guard. In all honesty, he was surprised that she had bothered to do that at all. Then again, it was becoming clear why she had done so. She was hoping that one last minute plea to his conscience would stop him from going on stage and doing his thing.

Jane was just relieved that she had calmed down after she first made the connection two days ago. Though she had returned home, after a good three hour walk, she was still angry. She had accused him of building their new home on 'dirty money'. That she had left the carnival circuit to avoid that, to cleanse her soul. All she had wanted was to make a good, honest living and he had blemished it from the offset in order to impress her. He had immediately vowed to start again, to make sure that each and every item he had bought was replaced. But she had disagreed to that; the damage was already done and nothing he did would be able to rectify it.

As the runner knocked impatiently on the door, he gazed into her honest blue eyes. At least he had stopped lying to her and had started making inroads into gaining her forgiveness. Jane knew that really, she wanted him to quit, but he couldn't see how he could do so. She was so fixated on the negatives of the job, that she couldn't see the positives. The hope and joy he brought to others when they thought that some loved one had forgiven them for a dirty secret. The supposed confirmation that there was an afterlife, that people did live on. The gratitude when people realized that the deceased would always be with them, in one way or another.

And of course, there were the benefits to himself. Being a showman was deep inside his blood and Jane honestly didn't know what he would do otherwise. The cops back in LA had always been impressed by his parlor tricks, but it was never enough. Even the prospect of a new audience in Sacramento wasn't enough to feed his desire to be the center of attention. Angela had never been honed for a life on stage; she had always worked behind the scenes, looking after the animals, doing the washing and the like. Like any true carnie, she had been bitter and skeptical, it was just that as she grew older, she grew even more so.

"I love you," he muttered and pressed a kiss to the palm of her hand.

"Yeah, me too," she answered back.

Jane's heart sank a little as he followed the now-irate runner out of his dressing room. He understood that she was reluctant to commit, was scared of saying those three little words. But still, they had been together for so long now, they even owned their own home now. He wasn't about to hurt her any time soon, never mind even consider walking out on her. So, just once, he would have liked to have heard her say 'I love you too' instead of 'me too'. It wouldn't kill her. And besides, once she said it once, it would only get easier for her to do so from then on.

xxx

"Van Pelt, I want you to look up as much on Patrick Jane as possible."

"Patrick Jane?"

"Yes," she answered back, rather snappishly. "It's not too difficult a task, I hope?"

Van Pelt shrank back when she saw Lisbon's arched eyebrow and immediately, Lisbon felt a little guilty for taking her temper out on her. Though she had been thrilled with the news about the Red John case, she was slightly unnerved about the concept of receiving a consultant. Her team was only just settling down after Van Pelt had started, the last thing she wanted was the status quo to be unsettled again so soon. It was hard enough trying to reign in Cho and Rigsby at times as it was.

Besides, there was the simple fact that he was supposedly a psychic. While she didn't completely brush the concept aside, she was still somewhat skeptical. There was something about the supernatural that made her feel uncomfortable and therefore, she was more than happy to simply brush it aside, given the opportunity. She didn't like being essentially forced to deal with someone who happily claimed to have such a connection to the afterlife. She avoided thinking about it, for the most part, because that always meant thinking directly about her parents. Besides, Lisbon was certain that ninety nine percent of the people who made such claims were charlatans, looking to make a quick buck by preying on the vulnerable and needy. It was just a simple case that somehow their line of work was apparently legitimate and therefore, she had no grounds to arrest them.

"You mean Patrick Jane, as in the psychic?"

She turned on her heels to face Van Pelt. The young redhead almost cowered in response.

"You've heard of him?"

"Yes, ma'am… I mean boss," Van Pelt stuttered, "he's going to be on TV in half an hour."

"Really?"

"Yeah, he's really good. It's amazing, the work he does," she said, gaining confidence as she spoke. "Why?"

"He may be doing a little work with us, that's all."

"Wow," Van Pelt breathed as Rigsby groaned in response. "That's _fantastic_."

Lisbon ignored Van Pelt's enthusiasm and turned to face her boys. Cho appeared to look like he knew what was coming, whereas Rigsby had buried his face in his hands. He had obviously heard something about Jane to make him feel so violently about working with him. She took two steps closer to them, smiling slightly. Part of her hoped they would be thrilled with what she was about to say. The other part was sure they'd also feel somewhat intimidated by the fact.

"And I'd like you two to go round up all the Red John case files and have a read."

"Red John?" Rigsby said, suddenly looking alert.

"What, do all three of you require hearing tests, or something?" she quipped and he flushed in response. "Yes, Red John."

"He's ours?"

"As of now, yes."

There was a mixture of shock and excitement on her team's faces, including the usually unflappable Cho. He immediately stood up and whisked past her, heading straight to the archives. Clearly, he was glad that he finally had something to sink his teeth into and that relieved Lisbon somewhat. Rigsby merely remained looking dumbstruck as Lisbon walked by. This was the first case involving a serial killer that he was going to work on and she understood the feeling. After all, this was the first serial killer case that she was going to be in charge of the investigation of. It was understandable to be at least a little apprehensive of the work. Red John was proving to be a menace and they all knew that this wasn't going to be an easy case to tackle. The more research they could do, the better.

She soon settled down in her office and it wasn't long until Lisbon found herself watching a stream of Jane's interview. Van Pelt had been right; his act was relatively impressive. Or at least, the audience appeared to be lapping it up. Lisbon had a feeling that just how effective it was would be hard to gauge unless you were actually present. However, it didn't go far to swaying her preconceived thoughts either. Mr. Jane was either a charlatan who was very good at his performance or legitimately gifted. And regardless of which one was accurate, she could tell he had an ego to match. That much was obvious from his demeanor.

Especially so when he was asked about his work with the police and he mentioned Red John. She choked on her coffee slightly when he started describing his aura. Just before the interview had started, Van Pelt had informed her that Jane had previously offered his services to another branch. However, she didn't think he'd had anything to do with the Red John case yet. Even though he was going to be working with them on it, it was all too presumptuous. He hadn't even met them and already, he was acting as if he had practically solved the case on their behalf.

Lisbon scowled slightly as she closed the window on her computer down. She had a feeling that Jane was going to be practically intolerable to work with.

xxx

The moment that the production staff announced 'it's a wrap,' Jane visibly relaxed. Briefly, he watched the audience milling about, before he turned and headed straight to the exit. He didn't want to see the people he'd just conned any longer; he wanted to get offstage, to find Angela and to go home. She'd promised him that she would wait backstage for him, in his dressing room. That was as close to the performance as she was willing to get and Jane had to admit that it was a fair compromise. If he knew he could afford to balance the books without the television shows, without the theater appearances, then he would do it in a heartbeat. Not because he wouldn't miss the attention, but because he was sick of seeing the disappointment in her eyes.

She had only found out that he had started it up again recently and already, he was getting a little sick of that look. When he'd put on his show suit, she had looked almost repulsed by it. It didn't matter that it was just a costume, something he wore to fit the part, she still hated it.

When he had washed and dressed, she smiled slightly at the sight of him. Even Jane himself had to admit to feeling more comfortable in his casual vest and suit number. Angela pecked him gently on the cheek before looping her arm with his. Wordlessly, they left the studios and headed straight towards the waiting cab. It felt good to be free, to be out of the harsh lights and away from the desperate faces, looking for solace. It felt even better to be with the woman he loved, knowing that he was slowly beginning to make amends with her. Jane knew it was all about compromise and that sooner or later, they would both be happy with how their life was.

Instead of going home, Jane insisted that the driver dropped them off at Angela's favorite Indian restaurant. While he wasn't particularly bothered by spicy food either way, she would have happily lived off of it if she could. She looked slightly confused when he did so; he hadn't told her about the reservation as he had wanted to make it a surprise. Still, it was a white lie that she found far more acceptable than the ones about him continuing to practice as a psychic. After all, it was something that was nice and they always enjoyed. Besides, having just received his pay check for the show, he had the money to spoil her rotten. She did have the patience of a saint, even if she didn't always show it.

"No more television shows?" she asked hopefully over their starter.

"No more television shows," he confirmed.

"But you're still…"

"There's a couple of live shows left and that's it."

"What about your clients?" she asked with a stilted tone. "Will you still be seeing them?"

"I can't let them down."

"Why not?"

"They need hope. Most of them know it's all lies, it's the hope they're after," he assured her.

"I guess."

She fell silent and poked listlessly at her onion bhaji. That was the closest he had ever got to her admitting that what he was saying made sense. Jane knew that most of his clients weren't fools and deep down, so did Angela. They just wanted company and for somebody to say that things weren't always as bad as they first appeared. Real answers didn't always exist, so they found solace in the hope that Jane could offer them. It was simply the kind of emotional healing that somebody could pay for and usually, pay very well. If he didn't do it, then Jane knew that there were plenty of other people queuing up behind him to take their money. And they both knew that he would treat them with as much respect as feasibly possible, unlike some of the conmen around.

"I love you Angela."

"Me too."

"There you go again," he snapped back, "why can't you say it? It's just three words."

"You know why," she answered back with narrowed eyes.

"I'm not going anywhere."

Instead of answering, Angela glanced to one side, obviously feeling very uncomfortable. Immediately, Jane fumbled in his left pocket. It didn't take long for him to find what he was looking for. He had already put this off once before and now was as good a time as any. And besides, it would prove his point. He was completely committed to her, had no intentions of ever deserting her. If it took a ring on her finger to make her believe that, to help her let go of her commitment issues, then that was what he was going to do.

"I'm not," he assured her and opened up the velvet box. "Will you marry me?"

**TBC...**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: **Thanks to twin for reviewing part two.

There will be some J/L interaction very soon, I promise...

x tromana

* * *

><p><strong>Part Three<strong>

Lisbon stared at her computer screen determinedly. The Google homepage was almost taunting her now. Since watching the interview, she had spent several hours simply trying to dig up the dirt on Patrick Jane. Just something to find some kind of excuse in order to avoid having him assigned to her team. Some sordid mental health problem, proof that his spiritual claims were erroneous, tax evasion or the like. Despite the fact she knew Van Pelt had been hard at work in the bullpen, doing exactly the same thing, she couldn't help but try herself. It wasn't that she didn't trust her new rookie, not exactly. She just wanted to make sure she could see for herself there was absolutely nothing to find.

It was strange; nobody was entirely blemish free. Everybody had at least one little deep, dark secret that they didn't want anyone else to know about. However, Patrick Jane appeared to have absolutely nothing wrong. His record was completely spotless. Hell, even hers wasn't as clean as his, thanks to a speeding ticket she had received when she was twenty three. Quickly, she decided to blame it on his fame and fortune. The rich could pay to make anything go away, provided they paid enough. Either that, or he was just one lucky bastard and nobody had gotten anything to stick.

She glanced at her watch. Seven past nine. Where had the day gone? Rigsby and Cho had been thrilled to get their teeth into the Red John case files, but they had left three hours ago. Even Van Pelt, who was doggedly determined to make a good first impression had turned in for the night at eight. Yet, she was still in the office, trying to make work out of nothing. Theoretically, she could have gone home hours ago. It was only a matter of time before she get the next call from the ADA. And usually, that was the exact kind of call she got at some unholy hour in the morning.

With a sigh, she switched off her computer and proceeded to gather together her belongings. She had officially wasted the day. There was nothing that Lisbon could hand to Minelli to convince him that hiring Patrick Jane was a not good idea. That meant she was simply going to have to endure him and his apparent ego until he screwed up and then, she would be able to kick him out on his ass. Lisbon could only hope that the moment would come sooner than later.

With a heavy sigh, she scooped up her keys and switched off her lamp. There was no point in worrying about it anymore. After all, there was nothing she could really do.

xxx

Jane smiled contentedly as Angela ran her fingers up and down his arm. When he had proposed, he'd never imagined that she would actually say yes. She had such a phobia of commitment that he had half expected her to run for the hills as soon as she had spotted the velvet box. Instead, she had defied his expectations and actually said yes. Catching her left hand before she pulled it away, he lifted it to place a kiss on her fingers, over the ring he had given her merely hours before.

As far as he was concerned, life couldn't get much better than this. He hadn't even objected to the wasted money at the Indian restaurant, for the meal they were doomed never to enjoy. It was a small sacrifice for the perfection the evening had turned into, especially after the disaster the earlier day had been.

He knew that Angela still had her reservations. That she probably wouldn't even dream of marrying him until he had given up practicing as a psychic for good. Unfortunately, Jane knew that that would take a long while to quit. His clients were all incredibly faithful and several, he imagined, would take the news that he was leaving very badly. They were often the type who found it difficult to trust and therefore, when they found a psychic (a conman) they liked, they found it very hard to let go.

And Jane too had a twisted sense of loyalty. In a way, he had grown fond of the women he assisted. He liked their quirks and the way they hung onto his every word. They made him feel strong, powerful, in control of their destiny. He almost found it amusing just how desperate they were to believe that there not only was an afterlife, but that their loved ones would have forgiven them entirely simply because they had 'passed on'. You could never make up that kind of naiveté.

"Angela?"

"Hmm…"

"Are you hungry?"

"Not really," she answered quietly and instead, placed a kiss onto his collarbone. "Why? Are you?"

"I was thinking about ice cream."

They both knew that he hadn't been really. Jane didn't mind it in small doses, but the treat was one of Angela's real weaknesses. Most other women preferred chocolate as a sweet treat, but Angela was always far, far happier with a tub of Ben and Jerry's. That way, she got both the indulgence of chocolate and the cool, creamy ice cream. It was the best of both worlds and as far as she was concerned, any woman who said otherwise was foolish.

At the suggestion, she immediately sat up and held onto the sheets to cover her modesty. Even though they had been very comfortable in bed, his suggestion had definitely piqued her interest. Besides, once they had gotten the ice cream, it was always entirely possible for them to return to bed _with_ it. And anyway, a walk would do them good. As tempting as it was, it was still relatively early and they had no reason to get up early in the morning. They both knew that it was better to drag themselves up now in order to indulge in one another's company later on.

xxx

Even though she had promised herself that she would stop thinking about the Jane predicament, Lisbon found it still lingering in her mind as she did her grocery shopping. It didn't help that she had seen an advert for a theater performance by him on the way to the supermarket, nor did it help seeing a review from an earlier gig on the front cover of this week's Sacramento Gazette. If she hadn't known otherwise, Lisbon would have suspected that he was stalking her, or at least that something odd was going on. Why was the world so determined that she found out as much about Patrick Jane as feasibly possible in such a short period of time?

Angrily, she pushed the thoughts to one side. She knew she was being completely and utterly ridiculous and this was something that she was just going to have to deal with in due course. What Lisbon hated the most was that she had had essentially no say whatsoever in Minelli's decision. He had decided that she was ready to cope with a case as important as Red John and Jane came as a part of the package. She simply wasn't allowed to question his decision, because it had come from _him_. Or possibly even from those above him. All she could do was grin and bear it.

But it was the fact she'd had no control over it whatsoever. Rigsby had once dared to call her a control freak when she had opted not to delegate certain tasks to him when she had felt under the weather. Of course, he had quickly retracted the statement but his point was valid. Lisbon knew she was a control freak and didn't need reminding by her subordinates. It was a double-edged sword. Some aspects of it made her perfect for her job, however, sometimes she found it hard to trust her team to do the job effectively. By repeating Van Pelt's web search she had demonstrated that effortlessly.

She grumbled incoherently as she placed a box of cereal into her basket. A mother, along with her baby, stared at her indignantly, though Lisbon had done nothing wrong. Immediately, she cast it to one side. It didn't matter what that woman thought of her. All Lisbon was doing was her weekly shop, alone, late in the evening, because there was nobody else to do it for her. Her job ate so much of her free time, that it was almost impossible to have a social life around it.

Almost.

Her cell phone rang cheerily and Lisbon answered it without even bothering to look at who was calling. There were very few people who actually bothered to ring her; she mostly used it for work.

"Lisbon."

"Tess, it's me."

Lisbon cringed slightly when she heard the nickname 'Tess'. She absolutely loathed it, though Maria had never quite gotten that. Time and time again, Lisbon had told her that if she couldn't cope with calling her Teresa, then Reese would have been preferable. After all, that was what her brothers had called her since they were small.

"Hello, Maria."

"Oh no, you have a case, don't you?"

"What? No."

"Are you sure?" Maria asked suspiciously, "because you always make that dejected sound whenever you have to cancel on me."

"No, no, it's fine."

"So you can still come out for dinner tomorrow night?"

"Yes!"

"Then what's wrong?"

"Work," Lisbon said.

Carefully she maneuvered around the other customers to try and find somewhere ever so slightly more private to talk to her friend. Though she would never reveal anything confidential over the phone - and she wouldn't to Maria anyway, she still felt the need for privacy.

"When is it not?"

"Touché."

"So, what's happened?" her friend asked, sounding altogether too cheerful.

"Can't I tell you tomorrow? It's only twenty-four hours away."

"What?" Maria whined and Lisbon laughed slightly in response. "You really want to make me wait that long?"

"Quite frankly, yes," Lisbon stated emphatically. It had been a long day and she really wanted to get home to eat. "I'm in the middle of grocery shopping."

"At this time of night?"

"When else am I meant to do it?"

"You work too hard, Tess."

"Everyone says that," Lisbon grumbled.

"Well they say it for a reason."

"Maria…"

"Okay, okay, I'm going," Maria said, admitting defeat. "I'll pick you up at eight, okay?"

When Lisbon confirmed that that was indeed appropriate and Maria ended the call, she was relieved. She glanced in her basket and decided that enough was enough. As she headed towards the checkouts, Lisbon grabbed a bar of chocolate. Though they were going through a quiet spell at work, the day had somehow managed to be stressful. Therefore, as far as she was concerned, she deserved a pick-me-up and pure, unadulterated chocolate was just that.

xxx

The walk to the supermarket had been peaceful. Angela linked her arm with Jane, her fiancé now, as they walked down the street. With the cool breeze in their face and the stars twinkling above, she decided that this was actually a very good idea. It was refreshing, especially after spending the majority of the evening in bed. Not that that hadn't had its benefits, mind. However, this was just a different way for them to enjoy one another's company.

They were walking back home along the riverside and Jane briefly stopped. Angela turned around and looked at him quizzically. He had no course to stop and besides, the sooner they got home, the sooner they could eat the ice cream they had just bought. With a smile, he cupped her face with his hands and placed a chaste kiss on her lips. Almost immediately, Angela melted into his touch. He always had that way with her, always made her feel like she was the only woman that mattered. When he parted, he smiled sweetly and she felt like her knees would buckle under her weight. Briefly, she was relieved that he had proposed while she had been sitting down, otherwise she would have had no hope.

"I love you, Angela," he whispered.

"Yeah, me too."

He didn't say a word, but Angela knew that he was disappointed that despite the fact they were engaged now, she still couldn't tell him she loved him too. She did, deep down, but she was scared that if she actually admitted it out loud, then everything would go spectacularly wrong once more. The last time she had told a man she loved him, that was when it all fell to pieces. She was terrified that if she did, then she would lose everything she had built with Jane.

"Hey, you!"

Angela turned on the spot to see a hooded man approach them. His appearance had taken her by surprise; she had thought they were alone down this little track by the river. She cocked her head curiously as he closed the distance between them. When he was standing about two meters away, the man carefully placed his hand in his pocket and he drew out a shotgun. Angela froze slightly and she felt Jane's hand squeeze hers gently.

"Yes, you step away from the lady."

"Why should I?"

"I will use this."

"What do you want?" Jane asked, sounding calmer than he felt. "I have money, I can give you money."

"I don't want your money, Patrick Jane, I want you to step away from the woman and let her go."

"How do you know my name?"

"Patrick, just do as you're told. I'll be fine, just-"

"I said, step away from the lady or you'll both get shot."

"I can't do that Angela, I'm not going to leave you."

"Patrick, _please_!"

Jane shook his head and maintained his grip on Angela. As far as she was concerned, he was behaving irrationally. Then again, where did logical sense come into it when someone was pointing a gun at you? However, if he let her go, as the man was quite keen to do so, then she would be able to call the cops and maybe, just maybe, they would have a chance to get out of the sorry situation unscathed. Surreptitiously, she tried to put her hand into her jacket pocket in order to call 911. She didn't necessarily need to be able to answer questions, the operator might have been able to get the gist of what was going on from the conversation.

"Hey, what are you doing?"

Roughly, their attacker grabbed Angela by the arm and pulled out her cell phone, where she had managed to dial the number, but not press enter. Angrily, the man threw it to the floor and glared at her. Jane grabbed the man's arm, the one holding the gun, but somehow, he still managed to fire two shots before running. Angela looked at Jane, relieved to see that he was still standing, but he looked completely and utterly horrified. It was only when she placed her own hand against her abdomen that she realized she was bleeding.

Her heart was thumping, almost as if it were trying to escape her ribcage. And then, only then, did a wave of pain hit her.

"Oh," she muttered quietly, surprised.

"Angela!"

Her vision blurred and she dropped the bag. She knew that Jane had rushed to her side and helped her lie down. As Jane called at her desperately, urging her to try and remain conscious, it was growing all the more tempting to go to sleep. Eventually, the fight grew too exhausting and she simply gave up.

The tub of Ben and Jerry's rolled towards the sidewalk, where it came to a halt.

**TBC...**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N:** Note to self: stop being so lazy when it comes to uploading this.

Thank you to BekaForEva and Purple Carnation for reviewing part three and to Miss Peg for nominating this for a Paint It Red award. :-)

x tromana

* * *

><p><strong>Part Four<strong>

"Lisbon."

Almost as if she had predicted it, Lisbon received the telephone call at midnight, shortly after she had gone to bed. She rubbed the sleep from her eyes as she listened to the ADA give her a brief rundown of the case. Apparently, it was a mugging gone wrong, with one victim and a very shaken up fiancé. And because she lived closest to the crime scene, and her team had a relatively small workload, it automatically came under her remit. Politely, she informed the ADA that she, along with the members of her team, would be there within half an hour.

She dressed as quickly as she could and was soon in her car. It didn't take long to get to the riverside, but she was still yawning as she climbed back out of the car. Crime scenes at this time of night were always one of the worst aspects of the job. However, at the same time, it also meant they were generally quieter and she didn't have to worry about the general public getting too curious and destroying the evidence. There was a silver lining to everything. Besides, as soon as they had inspected the crime scene and the coroner had taken the body, then she would be able to get back to bed before launching the proper investigation in the morning.

A man, presumably the fiancé that the ADA had told her about, was frantically attempting CPR. However, Lisbon could tell there was no hope. The woman would have bled out long before she'd gotten to the scene.

Lisbon closed the distance between herself and the man and attempted to peel him away. Instead, he insisted upon hugging the body as he cried, seemingly unable to comprehend what was going on. It wasn't until Rigsby arrived, along with Cho, that the three of them managed to convince him to let go of her so that they could help.

And it was only then that Lisbon realized exactly who the grieving man was.

Patrick Jane.

"Mr. Jane," she whispered quietly and placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. "Mr. Jane, please look at me."

Bitterly, he looked up at her with tear-stained eyes and her heart broke a little. All the resentment she had felt for him earlier on melted away. This wasn't a man she needed to feel angry about; this was a man who needed her support. He'd clearly just lost the one person who had meant the world to him and worse, he'd been present at the time. Though her parents had died when she was young, Lisbon hadn't been there when it had happened. It was something she was eternally grateful for. If she had actually witnessed either of their deaths, she was certain that she wouldn't have been able to cope with it.

Silently, she led Jane away towards a bench, to allow Rigsby, Cho and the coroner to get better access to the body. Jane's well-being was of more importance to her and besides, those two were entirely capable of looking for the evidence they needed. Shell casings and the like. Besides, Jane was always going to be a better resource. He was a witness and therefore, once he calmed down, he was most likely to be able to give her an accurate recount of what had happened leading up to the shooting.

She took a couple of steps forwards, guiding him gently as she did so. Seconds later, she paused. Quickly, Lisbon craned her neck as she looked over her shoulder. Cho frowned a little when she glanced at him, but he didn't say a word. Still, that was a little weird. She had thought she'd heard someone scream.

xxx

Angela had shouted until she was hoarse, trying desperately to get Jane to hear her, but he had been stunned by the turn of events and seemingly distracted. She had briefly chased after their attacker, to try and find out his identity and his hood had slipped. Quickly, she had memorized his features, relieved that their old carnie roots had taught her how to maintain an effective memory palace. At least it meant that she would have something to tell the police as soon as they arrived.

When she returned to where she had left Jane, he was surrounded by three people she didn't recognize. Two men and a relatively petite woman. Angela watched curiously as the woman talked soothingly at Jane and eventually persuaded him to stand. A wave of jealousy coursed through her body. This was exactly what she had feared, that Jane would run and find comfort in another woman's arms if she told him she loved him. And this time, he had the audacity to do it in front of her, the bastard. At least her ex had attempted to keep his sordid secrets hidden from her.

"Patrick!"

As the woman led her fiancé away from her, Angela briefly glanced at the other two men. It was then that she saw it. Her own body. She couldn't help but let out a blood-curdling scream at the sight. What else was she expected to do? To take it on board as if it were something perfectly normal?

Besides, how was this physically possibly? She could remember losing consciousness for half a second or so, remembered the influx of pain and then, she had been okay once more. Had merely assumed that she had had a brief dizzy spell due to low blood sugar or something. Angela felt - was - fine, so how the hell could she be laying on the ground, surrounded by men who were presumably cops and yet, standing beside them watching it at the same time?

She watched with a morbid fascination, barely hearing the words being discussed. Instead, Angela just stared at herself, her own features, taking them in. It was strange, looking directly at herself and not seeing the image that she was used to viewing in a mirror. This was the way that the world perceived her and it was disconcerting just how different it was to the way she saw herself. A precise mirror image, right down to the finest of details. She took a tentative step closer as one of the men, the taller of the pair uttered the words 'she didn't have a chance' and she cringed. How could they have decided that when she was standing right beside them?

But then again, she had already decided that this wasn't, couldn't be real. It was just all a great big misunderstanding. Her - the - body was just a copy, a waxwork being used to scare the crap out of her. Angela let out a hollow laugh. Whoever thought up that one had a sick sense of humor and somehow, they had managed to persuade Jane to play a part in it. He and that woman were probably having a right old laugh about how she had overreacted. She surmised that it must have been something cooked up by the bastards running some sort of television show. Warily, she looked around for the hidden cameras. The cops and the coroner, they were all just actors, making sure that she really believed it.

Or maybe, less optimistically, she was comatose, waiting for the moment when she was ready to wake. This was just a scary hallucination that her mind had thought up while she recovered. In a couple of weeks' time, when her body would be able to cope with consciousness after the trauma, she'd wake up, with Jane clutching her hand. He would tell her that he loved her and Angela decided that she'd do the same. Not saying 'me too' as she usually would, be actually tell him those three little words she was so reluctant to share.

Or she was having a nightmare. That was the most likely explanation, a bad dream. It had to be, because there was no such thing as an afterlife. Ghosts didn't exist; it was just the here and now and therefore, it was just something her mind had cooked up based on latent childhood fears. And she knew that at any given moment, Jane would wake her up and they'd still be in bed. They'd never have decided to go out and get ice cream. Instead, they would have just drifted off to sleep and he would have noticed her twitching uncomfortably and thus, do something about it. Jane could never stand seeing her in distress. Even when they had been small, too young to even consider dating, he had always looked after her. Been the one to supply her with band-aids when she grazed her knee, gotten her drinks when she was thirsty. Sometimes, she wondered what took her so long when it came to him. If she hadn't been so reluctant, then maybe she wouldn't have been hurt by other men in her life and therefore, would have felt more capable to trust Jane entirely rather than tar him with the same brush as others.

As the coroner loaded the body into a black bag, Angela shook her head. She found it all very demeaning, being treated like a piece of meat to be hauled away to be cut apart. Quietly, she hoped that her vivid imagination wasn't true to life, that she was just over exaggerating based on things she'd seen on the television. People had always complimented her on her creativity, after all. All this had probably come from watching too many sci-fi shows, along with the odd crime procedural. Yes, that was all it was.

Danny turned up shortly after they took her - the body - away. She watched as the lady cop handed Jane over to him. It surprised her that her brother, of all people, had been the one to be there for Jane. She knew that Danny hated her fiancé and had done for a long while. Why, she wasn't quite sure. Danny never explained it and Jane had always protested his innocence. Angela passed it off as wishful thinking. It was something she'd always wanted; Jane and her brother to actually be able to be civil to one another. However, that didn't mean she believed it would actually ever happen.

"Patrick! Where are you going?" she called, frustrated. "I'm here. You said you'd never leave me."

Nobody responded to her pleas. Nobody, except for the petite woman, the first cop who had been on the scene, that was. She had turned to the coroner and asked if she'd heard anything.

The coroner had said no. That the woman - Teresa, apparently - simply ought to go catch up on her sleep.

xxx

As far as Lisbon was concerned, morning came all too quickly. It felt like as soon as her head hit the pillow, her alarm clock rang out, indicating that it was time to get up and go into work. Groaning, she sat and rubbed the sleep from her eyes. It was going to be a long day. By her estimations, she had only gotten three or so hours sleep and she wasn't going to let Marie down if she could help it. Mostly, because her friend wouldn't let it drop if she did. All things considered, Marie was an understanding soul, but Lisbon still didn't like constantly letting her down. Just because her career was important, it didn't mean that other things weren't too.

She dressed quickly and skipped breakfast. Roughly, she tied her hair back and when she did so, Lisbon swore she heard somebody whisper a quiet 'hello'. Immediately, she disregarded it. It was just the exhaustion talking. When she got her second wind, then she would feel much better and therefore, be able to actually operate sensibly. Quickly, she grabbed her keys and her purse. It was an early start; it had to be. Not only did she have to get her head around the Red John case as soon as feasibly possible, Lisbon also had to start working this new case.

At face value, it looked relatively simple, a mugging gone horrendously wrong. However, Lisbon had been in the business for far too long to know that things like that weren't always exactly how they first appeared. Patrick Jane hadn't said much last night, but one line had stuck out at her. The fact that he had insisted that their attacker had had no interest whatsoever in his money, despite Jane having repeatedly offered him his wallet.

It didn't take long for her to decide that as soon as she had finished briefing the team, she would take Cho to go and talk to Jane again. Lisbon had briefly considered the concept of taking Van Pelt - the experience would have been good for her - but suspected that she would have been too star struck around Jane. That certainly wasn't something that the man would need at this moment in time. Instead Cho's no-nonsense attitude would probably be of benefit in the situation.

She also wondered what would happen to the prior agreement of Jane working with the CBI. This situation certainly changed things. Not only was he now a victim, but he would also probably want to come to terms with his loss before making any major decisions. If she were in his shoes, then Lisbon certainly wouldn't be considering something as important as a job change on top of mourning for a loved one.

"Hi, boss!"

Van Pelt sounded all too cheery considering it was only five thirty a.m., but Lisbon didn't expect anything less of her. At least the drive into work had been peaceful. Instead, she headed straight to her office. While she waited for Rigsby and Cho to turn up, she knew that she might as well get on with reading the case files that had amalgamated on her desk overnight. Besides, she didn't think a grief-stricken man would appreciate a courtesy call at this god-awful hour in the morning. She had already spoken to him once; her follow-up questions could wait.

"Do you always ignore people who are trying to talk to you?" Angela asked as she followed Lisbon.

"Excuse me?"

A woman, one of the cleaners, glared at her, obviously having said nothing and Lisbon frowned. She didn't like this. It sounded like there was an echo or something and she knew she couldn't blame it on the building. It had happened at home too, and at the crime scene last night. All she could do was blame it on being over-tired.

Lisbon sat down at her desk and placed the coffee she had bought beside her. Immediately, she booted up her computer and grabbed her notebook. Though she knew Jane had a squeaky clean record, that didn't necessarily mean that his deceased partner did. Silently, she wondered if that was where all of Mr. Jane's secrets were hidden; in her records. Then, she shook her head and realized that she was not only thinking ill of the dead, but a woman she knew next to nothing about. Yet.

"When are you going to actually stop pretending you can hear me and actually answer back?" Angela said irritably.

Lisbon placed her pen down and looked around suspiciously.

"Who's there?"

"Angela," she replied, tapping her foot impatiently. "Angela Ruskin."

Briefly, Lisbon glanced down at her notes. The name was familiar, awfully so. It didn't take long for her to pick out exactly why.

"No, that's impossible."

"You're telling me."

**TBC...**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: **I'm on holiday for the next week or so! Which means, I hope to get a lot of writing done. But we'll see.

Thank you to xanderseye and Galxychld for reviewing part four. I spent a long time working on this story, so it means a lot to me to finally get feedback for it.

x tromana

* * *

><p><strong>Part Five<strong>

Jane sat on the couch, staring into space. His life had been turned upside down twelve hours ago. Just twelve hours. Not even a day. At every creak of the floorboard, he expected Angela to emerge from their bedroom, to sit by his side and wrap her arms around him. Every time he heard the footsteps of somebody else heading towards their own apartment, he thought she'd come through the door with a bag of groceries in her hand. But she didn't, of course she didn't. It was impossible. She was dead and he'd seen it happen with his own eyes. And he hadn't been able to do a thing to stop it.

Instead, Danny Ruskin was there. He was the one who had practically forced a cup of tea into his hands. He was the one sitting on the chair, Angela's favorite, the only thing that had survived from his own place. And he was staring at him, as if it were Jane's fault that Angela had been shot dead As if he'd had any real control whatsoever over the situation.

It wasn't surprising though, not really. Danny had always made it pretty clear that he didn't like Jane. He'd always blamed him for 'convincing' Angela to leave the carnival circuit, when really, it was the other way around. If it hadn't been for Angela, the idea that he could leave, or that he even wanted to, probably wouldn't have ever crossed his mind. But still, Danny seemed convinced that Jane had stolen his elder sister and tied her down to one spot for no other reasonthan to spite him. It was little wonder that they had never gotten along, however much Angela had wished they would.

"What happened?"

Jane shrugged. What was the point in going over it again and again? He'd already explained himself to the cops once. And that woman, Lisbon or something, had said that she would drop by today, with some follow-up questions. Give him time to think about things some more, to let the event sink in. As if more time to think was what he really needed right now. Angela was dead, gone, and _thinking_ wasn't going to change that.

"Patrick, I said…"

"I heard what you said."

The men glared at one another and after a second, Jane flinched. There was a certain look in Danny's eyes, one he didn't like. It was almost asking 'why did my sister die and not you?' Right now, Jane wished it had been him. That he could change places with Angela, but he knew deep down, that that was simply survivors' guilt. It was only natural that he'd feel like this, especially given how raw the experience was. The last thing he needed was Danny staring at him and judging him.

"It happened quickly."

"People always say that," Danny said critically, "you're sounding like a mark."

"Don't you dare."

"Don't I dare what?"

"You've never been in a situation like this."

"I've just lost my sister."

"And I've just lost my fiancée!" he shouted back and Danny looked stunned.

"What? You… you," he stuttered, as comprehension slowly dawned. "You asked her to marry you? When?"

"Last night, just before…"

"Patrick… I…"

Danny looked lost, like he was losing control of the situation. That was something that was relatively unusual for someone with his confidence and demeanor. After all, like Jane, Danny was a showman at heart. A fake psychic, a conman. Jane had always regarded him as being less talented; Danny didn't quite have the same people skills as he did, and it showed whenever he interacted with him. Naturally, that meant Danny resented Jane for not only the effect he'd had on his sister, but the simple fact that he was a constant threat whenever it came to clientele. Now, they were both a mess, for the same reason. And at the same time, they were both trying to point the blame for what had happened to Angela.

"I think, maybe, you should leave."

"Yeah," Danny agreed and Jane was relieved. "Thanks for the coffee."

"Yeah."

"Let me know if you want help organizing the funeral."

"I will."

The door slammed behind Danny and Jane visibly relaxed. He didn't start crying; he'd already shed far too many tears and it was growing exhausting. Instead, he returned to his silent vigil and stared at a photograph of Angela on the wall. There was no point in moving; the cops would be here soon. And then, they would just want to ask the same old, tired questions that everybody would be asking him for weeks on end. Offer him faux sympathy and promises that they'd capture Angela's killer too. As if words could help. Like it would change a thing.

Already, Jane knew that it wouldn't.

xxx

When the others had arrived, Rigsby and Cho apparently, Lisbon seemed to start ignoring Angela once more. Either that or she had stopped hearing her again. Angela found it frustrating. There seemed to be only one person who could actually hear her for some unfathomable reason and she was in denial, pretending she couldn't. Why? She had no idea. It wasn't as if the woman was going mad. Angela was still a living, breathing human being and it was the rest of the world that had a problem.

Not knowing what else to do, Angela followed Lisbon out of her office and into the bullpen. It was the first time she had been in a police investigation department and she had a feeling that she would find it all the more interesting if people weren't just blanking her. Besides, she was horrified at the complete and utter lack of security. She was able to walk through the building freely and nobody batted an eyelid. They just didn't seem to care that she - a civilian - could easily access confidential files and spread the information around. It was like everyone but she was in some sort of a daze. Except, of course, for those brief moments when Lisbon seemed to acknowledge her presence.

"Van Pelt, I want you to look into Patrick Jane and Angela Ruskin's financials. See if there's anything there which would cause them to be targeted…"

"I am here, you know," Angela said, sniffing slightly.

"Rigsby, you go to the television center. Ask around. I want to know who they saw and what they did there last night…"

"I could tell you that."

"Cho, you're with…"

"Agent Lisbon, I demand that you-"

"I wouldn't bother, if I were you."

Angela spun on her heels to see a bearded man staring at her with a wan smile. He was clutching hold of a paper bag as if his life depended on it. It had taken her somewhat by surprise. After all, he had been the first person to actually speak to her, barring Lisbon's brief moment of comprehension in the early morning.

"Why not? Why won't she listen to me? She did before."

"She can't hear you."

"But she _did_."

"That was just luck; it stops after a while. Believe me, I've tried," the man said sadly and led Angela over to a battered couch. "Sometimes, you think you're getting through to them, but most of the time, they just don't notice."

"Why not?"

"Don't you get it?" he answered, somewhat surprised. "You're a ghost."

"Now you're just being ridiculous."

"No, really. You're dead."

"Stop it."

"Did you see yourself earlier-"

"Yes, but it's just a practical joke, right? One of those twisted camera shows-"

"No, it's all real sweetie," he said and patted her on the shoulder. "Welcome to the afterlife."

"There's no such thing as an afterlife."

"Funny, you look pretty dead to me."

"How is that funny?" Angela snapped angrily.

"Try knocking that pile of paper off that desk there," he said, nodding towards one of the desks in the bullpen. "Go on."

"Why would I want to do something as stupid as that?"

"It'll prove my point. How did you get here?"

"I followed her."

Angela pointed at Lisbon, who was putting on her jacket. The man nodded and smiled. There was a look in his eyes that suggested he had a certain fondness for the petite agent. Jane wasn't the only person who could read people fairly easily and besides even if she hadn't been able to, she had been around him for more than long enough to pick up a thing or two. Reluctantly, she sat beside him and eyed him nervously. Despite the fact he was obviously slightly crazy, it was a relief that somebody was finally acknowledging her presence.

"That's what I did."

"What? Followed her? Agent Lisbon?"

"No, not Agent Lisbon. Though she is a sweet little thing. It was Agent Maguire in my day. He left a long while ago. Nearly seventeen years, it's been."

"Oh really?"

"Yes, really," he replied, grinning. "And do you know where I died?"

"No, where?" she answered, humoring the crazy old man.

"Just out there," he said, after jumping to his feet and pointing outside a nearby window. "And you know what? They never closed my case. Never found my killer."

"I'm sorry," Angela replied, not knowing what else to say.

"Don't be. Though you'd think, being shot in the back of the head, directly in front of CBI headquarters that they'd have had a clue. Still, too late now. A cold case is what they call it."

He started ambling out of the bullpen. Angela immediately sprang to her feet. What he'd said was slowly beginning to make sense, but that didn't mean she wanted to accept it. All her life, she'd been reluctant to believe in the afterlife, the supernatural. And that meant her whole belief system was being threatened. Somehow, it felt more natural to cling onto what she knew and understood and treat everyone else as crazy as a consequence. Besides, there was still the old 'it's just a dream' theory that she could always rely on.

"Hey, what's your name?"

"Don't go by names anymore, miss. No point. Everyone comes and goes and I'm just stuck here."

"What should I call you then?"

"The CBI Ghost will do."

"Oh please, ghosts don't-"

The CBI Ghost paused by a stack of files. With a devilish grin, he knocked them off. Angela was momentarily outraged. An exaggerated action like that wasn't going to go unnoticed. Warily, she glanced around at the team who, excepting Lisbon, were still sitting around the table. All of them were looking fairly startled, though none of them were looking directly at her. Instead, they were looking at the mess on the floor, stunned.

"You try now," he called before disappearing around a corner.

"What was that?" Rigsby asked dubiously before standing to pick them up.

Cho shrugged in response. "You didn't put your files on your desk properly again."

"But I _swear _I did."

"Yeah, man, you always say that. And it always happens on _your_ desk."

Frowning, Angela waited until Rigsby had put the folders back on his desk. When he did so, she lifted her hand and pushed at them. Her hand went straight through the paper, as if there had been nothing but air in front of it. She repeated the movement a second time, but still, the paperwork remained firmly in place. Just to be sure, she tried a third and final time before giving up. For some reason, she was having no effect whatsoever on her environment and she didn't like it one bit.

What the hell was going on? Was the supposed CBI Ghost telling the truth? Everything he said seemed to make sense and yet she was desperate for proof that he had been lying. However, it was becoming less and less likely that he was. People weren't noticing her, she couldn't move objects or have any effect on her environment and then there was the - her – body, which she had seen with her own eyes. If this were a court case, the jury would be beginning to find the evidence undeniable. She collapsed back down on the leather couch and rested her head in her hands. This was ridiculous, crazy.

How the hell did you come to terms with _dying_?

xxx

It was mid-morning before Lisbon and Cho headed towards Jane's apartment. After the debacle of Rigsby's files falling off of his desk, Van Pelt had piped up about the concept of ghosts. Though Rigsby had been quick to deny their existence and Lisbon had half-heartedly agreed, she wasn't entirely sure at that specific moment in time. There was something about the way the morning had been going that unsettled her, but still she pushed it to one side. It was just because she was in a state of delirium. Being woken up in the dead of the night for a new case had that effect on people.

Still, at least they were finally on their way. Lisbon still felt a touch guilty about the resentment she'd had built up about Jane over the prior day. Then again, it was hardly her fault that something so catastrophic had happened to him last night. It wasn't as if she were psychic, like she could forewarn such events. It wasn't as if _anybody_ could do that. But still, seeing the devastation in his face reminded her that he was still human, not some conman doomed to irritate her at work.

And now, she was doubtful that he would even join her at the CBI at all. If she were in his shoes, she certainly wouldn't bother any longer.

Neither of them noticed Angela Ruskin slip into the van behind them. Instead, Lisbon and Cho remained mostly quiet, apart from Cho giving her the occasional direction to the apartment complex. Angela tutted and sighed behind them, though naturally, neither of them seemed to care about what she did. Lisbon just remained firmly focused on the road ahead of her. The feeling of exhaustion was slowly subsiding as she finally had something decent to focus on, to keep her awake. And of course, Cho's presence stopped her from having any hope of noticing the woman who was following them around, in the desperate search of answers.

When they reached the apartment complex, Angela was frustrated to find she actually had to wait for people to open doors before she could enter her own home. Not that Lisbon cared; all she wanted was answers to a few questions from Jane. Then, there would be the hope of furthering their investigation into Angela's death. She certainly didn't realize that Angela was in denial, that she couldn't accept the fact that her body was in a morgue and her spirit was elsewhere.

As they waited for the elevator, Angela continued yelling at Lisbon and on a couple of occasions, she noticed. Turning to Cho, she questioned if he had heard anything too and he just shook his head, stating that it was probably people speaking inside their own homes. Lisbon nodded in response, considering that Cho's theory made sense. She wasn't going mad. And as she disregarded it, Angela grew more frustrated, yet again. As far as she was concerned, both Lisbon and Cho were blind to what was standing right in front of them.

When they got to Jane's apartment, Lisbon knocked sharply on the door. As she did so, she shivered slightly. It felt like somebody had just walked over her grave. She certainly didn't realize that Angela was standing behind her, trying desperately to shake some sense into her. However, as soon as Jane appeared at the door, all puffy-eyed and shattered looking, Angela stopped. Lisbon offered her hand quietly, which Jane gratefully shook.

"Patrick…" Angela whispered gently and attempted to reach and touch his face. "Patrick, I'm fine. It's okay, it's just a big misunderstanding…"

"I'm very sorry for your loss," Lisbon muttered as Jane led them through to the lounge. "Thank you for agreeing to see us again."

**TBC...**


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: **So sorry about the delay in updating. I would have done it earlier, but I went to London, suffered from a seizure at the concert I attended (which is now under investigation) and have been exhausted ever since. Still no way near back to normal right now, alas.

Thank you to: idonthaveaname, Galxychld and fseventh for reviewing part five. It's very much appreciated.

x tromana

* * *

><p><strong>Part Six<strong>

Angela watched as Lisbon lightly touched Jane on the arm with two fingers. A flutter of jealousy ran through her as Jane smiled a wan smile in response to the woman's actions. When she had done the same, just moments beforehand, he hadn't even reacted. Hadn't even shivered slightly. Instead, he'd acted as if nothing had changed, as if she wasn't there at all. And yet, he was perfectly happy to receive comfort from Agent Lisbon and listen to her words of sympathy, regardless of whether or not she genuinely meant them.

If this was the afterlife, thus far, she wasn't very impressed.

Children were often told stories about heaven. How everyone they'd ever loved went there. That Nan and Pops were reunited and looking down on them. That it was peaceful, quiet and everyone had their heart's desire. And, if needs be, you could always speak to those who'd passed on. The afterlife was supposedly _easy_, something to look forward to after the trials endured on Earth. Angela had always believed that that was just lies. Simple platitudes to make the concept of death easier for young children to swallow. As far as she was concerned, adults simply labeled it as religion and clung onto that same childish beliefs.

However, this wasn't bliss, nor was it the burning depths of hell. Instead, it was just never ending frustration. How were people expected to continue existing without going insane when loved ones wouldn't even react to them? It was little wonder that the crazy guy who had labeled himself as the CBI Ghost had shed his name. Obviously, existence was so fleeting that there was no point in making attachments. Angela made a mental note to ask him what he believed happened to other 'ghosts' next time she saw him. After all, the impression she got was like living, breathing people, he believed that ghosts didn't stick around for long either.

He'd also said that his case had never been closed, too. Maybe it was a simple fact of unfinished business? If she wasn't in a coma and was indeed, dead, did that mean she had something to do in order to be able to 'pass over' as Jane phrased it whenever he was with a client.

Ignoring Lisbon, who was sitting to one side of Jane and Cho, who was standing behind the couch, Angela sat in front of Jane. Automatically, she reached out and rested her hand on his. As usual, he didn't respond and instead, stared at Lisbon intently as he recounted what had apparently happened the night before once more. Closing her eyes, Angela did something she had never felt compelled to do before and uttered a soft prayer. When she opened them, Jane was still looking at Lisbon, however, the brunette woman was looking warily in her general direction.

Angela frowned. That was not quite the reaction she had hoped for. However, it was better than nothing. At least it proved that she still had hope of getting through to somebody on this planet.

"Patrick," she whispered gently and tightened her fingers slightly. "Patrick, it's me. I'm right in front of you."

"Are you sure you can't tell us anything more?" Lisbon asked Jane quietly. "Even the color of his jacket would help."

"It was dark, there's not much light down that part of the river," Jane explained, but closed his eyes nevertheless. "But I think it might have been green. I'd be able to tell you more if it had been lighter…"

"Patrick, I… I _love_ you."

When he didn't respond, she felt like bursting into tears. Angela knew just how desperate he had been to hear those three little words from her. And now she had finally mustered the courage to actually say them, she might as well have said nothing at all.

Angela stood and took two steps towards the door. Jane didn't even appear to notice that she was gone. Instead, he was discussing his interview with the two officers, in great detail. He was describing, in depth, one of the new runners and how he had thought there was something suspicious about him. That he had paid far too much attention to himself and Angela. Grumbling incoherently, she continued walking away. However, once she approached the door, somebody walked through it - literally - despite the fact it was closed and bumped into her.

"Oh, sorry. I thought somebody else lived here," the woman said by way of explanation. "They must have moved."

"How did you do that?" Angela asked, frowning.

"I'm dead. My mom and dad live - lived - here."

"_I_ moved here a few days ago."

"I'm sorry."

"Why?"

"That you," the girl said, trailing off slightly as she spoke. "You know… so soon after moving here. This place must be cursed."

The girl turned on her heels and walked through the closed door once more. Angela attempted to follow, but instead, banged her head on the wood. Rubbing her forehead, she frowned. How come the girl could walk through closed doors and she couldn't? If she was dead, surely it was an inherent ability she should now have? She was beginning to come to the conclusion that while ghosts may well exist, it didn't necessarily mean she _was_ one (yet). All it meant was that she was in contact with the spiritual world, which she had denied all of her life, and that those in the 'real' world had nothing to do with her any longer. Almost like some kind of psychic or spirit guide. Or something, anyway.

This required some more serious thought.

xxx

Lisbon allowed her fingers to run over her cross. Her mom had given it to her two days before she'd died and since then, she had worn it every single day. She liked to think that as long as she had it with her, her mom was always standing beside. Always keeping watch and making sure her only daughter was safe. Or at least, as safe as she could be, given her job description. The Kingdom of God had welcomed her mother with open arms, albeit too soon, and that was something Lisbon had had to accept. Life didn't require explanations, you just had to learn to go with it.

She'd gotten over her childhood tragedy and therefore, she was convinced that Patrick Jane would be able to get over this one too. After all, if his image online was anything to go by, he was made of pretty strong stuff.

When she realized that Jane was observing her with interest, she dropped the necklace immediately. She had known from her research that he was a supposed psychic, or at least, he had an uncanny way of working things out about people. Who knew just how much she had told him, just by doing that single comforting gesture? But she couldn't help it; she was beyond exhausted. Lisbon often had a habit of fiddling with it whenever she was alone; it was just now, she was so tired that she was quite comfortable doing it in public as well.

She had listened with interest to exactly what Jane had made of the incident. In all honesty, apart from the simple fact that the man hadn't accepted Jane's offer of money, it sounded like a mugging gone wrong. Still, she had noted down everything that she could. Though he hadn't been able to offer her a detailed description of his attacker thanks to poor lighting and the clothing the man had been wearing, he had been able to recall quite a few details about the man's voice. However, that wasn't always of use. It was always harder to track down somebody based on a vocal recollection rather than physical. You couldn't draw up an image of what somebody looked like based on their voice.

"Mr. Jane, you work as a psychic, yes?"

"Yes, but I'm leaving the business."

"You are?"

"Yes. I'm going to consult for-"

"-the CBI, I know."

"You do?" he answered, looking uncharacteristically stunned for half a second.

"You were going to be assigned to my team," Lisbon replied.

"Oh, well, I guess this gives us an ideal opportunity to get to know each other as colleagues."

"Even if you do choose to work for the CBI still, you won't be working this case," she said stiffly.

"Why not? My fiancée was killed as a result," Jane retorted angrily, "if anyone has the right to-"

"It means you're a _victim_, not an investigator," she stressed.

"I'm not the victim, Angela was!"

His tone was bitter and Lisbon flinched in response. It was obvious that Jane had taken the word victim literally and seen it in black and white, rather than acknowledging the gray area in between. Just because he hadn't been the one shot to death, it didn't mean that the incident hadn't had repercussions on him. Lisbon understood all too well that it was something that was going to stay with him for the rest of his life, but Jane was in denial. He couldn't admit to it having a detrimental effect on him, not when it had cost Angela Ruskin her life. She bit on her tongue when it came to retorting; it was only going to make the situation worse.

"What Agent Lisbon means is that it is against CBI regulations for any member of staff to work on a case which they are directly linked with."

"Thank you, Cho," Lisbon replied, gratefully.

"Sounds more like waffle and excuses to me."

"That's still the CBI procedure, I'm afraid."

"Right, so you wanted to know more about my practicing as a psychic?" he said, swiftly changing the subject.

"If you don't mind?"

"Is there any angry clients out there who might, for some reason, wish harm upon you or the people you love?"

"No."

"Can you be sure of that?" Cho interjected.

"No."

"If possible, could we have a copy of your client list?"

It didn't take long to come back with two discs of data, which he promptly handed to Lisbon. She quietly thanked him, relieved that he was being co-operative. At least he seemed to understand that their questioning was simply protocol, that it wasn't them wasting time when they could be 'out there catching killers,' as some people thought.

"I will get them back, won't I?"

"Eventually."

"Good."

"Mr. Jane, as a psychic, is there any way of you contacting Angela, now that she's…"

Lisbon trailed off. She had been cringing as she'd asked, but she had felt the need to. After all, it wasn't every day that the significant other of a murder victim was a psychic. And besides, if he wasn't lying through his teeth about it, as she had suspected all of yesterday afternoon, it may well provide some useful information. If he had contact with the afterlife, then maybe, just maybe, she would have been able to pass information onto them. It was a long shot, but Minelli had said that she ought to think outside of the box when it came to Jane's placement on her team.

And maybe he would have half a chance of explaining why the hell she had thought she had heard Angela in the early hours of this morning.

"Ah, Agent Lisbon, Agent Cho. There's a reason why I'm leaving the psychic business."

"And that is?"

"Real psychics don't exist. I'm a conman, a fraud," he explained, keeping his tone surprisingly light. "Angela wanted me to do some good in my life. So, that's exactly what I'm going to do."

"Excuse me?"

"I trust you both to keep that information confidential, of course."

xxx

Like beforehand, Angela hitched a ride back to the CBI headquarters with Cho and Lisbon. She didn't know anywhere else she could go. However, she did know that she would be able to find the one person who seemed happy to help her and that was the CBI Ghost. Perhaps, if she told him that she believed she was a ghost too, then maybe he would be willing to help her out, instead of just giving her infuriating little hints.

In a way, the man reminded her a bit of Jane. Or at least, the Jane she saw whenever he took to the stage or in front of the cameras. It seemed like this strange man back at the CBI headquarters was the kind of person to drip-feed information, to only give as much as he needed to to get what he wanted. Maybe he had enjoyed seeing her frustration at her new-found situation and was practically mocking her?

Or maybe, he just understood that this was something she could only come to terms with on her own.

As soon as they arrived at the headquarters, Angela made a beeline for the battered old couch on the third floor. When she saw the man reclining on it, she smiled slightly. It was just where she expected him to be. After all, it was a pretty damn comfortable couch and nobody else seemed to take any interest in it. She wove around the desk and the other people and quickly closed the distance between him and herself. He didn't even open an eyelid as she glared down at him. Roughly, she nudged the couch and he opened one eye to look up at her.

"Back so soon?"

"Well, where else was I supposed to go?"

"I don't know, home?"

"Went there. Patrick didn't notice me."

"Of course he wouldn't, sweetie. You're a ghost."

"So you keep saying."

The CBI Ghost swung his legs around and sat up, allowing Angela to sit beside him. She nodded her gratitude as she accepted the unspoken offer. They remained in silence as Rigsby, Van Pelt and Cho milled around them. The agents never once acknowledged their presence, something which Angela still found very disconcerting. If they just looked at them and smiled, or even just asked what they were doing there, she would have felt better. But they didn't, because, according to everyone she had spoken to (excepting Lisbon, albeit briefly), had said they were dead. That the living were just incapable of noticing because they were blind to the presence of ghosts.

"So?" he prompted.

"If I'm a ghost, why can't I walk through walls?"

"You saw somebody do that, huh?"

"Yeah. Well?"

"Were you born capable of walking and talking?"

"No, but…"

"Well then."

"It's something I have to learn?"

"Precisely."

"Teach me," she demanded.

"Why should I?" he retorted back.

Angela stood and glared at him. Why was he suddenly being so uncooperative? Earlier, he had been fine. Had been willing to answer her questions, within reason. But now, he had suddenly clammed up and was acting as if she had wronged him somehow. Was it really that much of an ask to be taught the skills he'd learned? If she was a ghost, like him, then surely it wouldn't have been that much of a problem?

"You think because you're young and pretty that you can come in here and demand things of me?" the CBI Ghost questioned angrily. "Well you've got another thing coming."

"I didn't mean-"

"You think I asked to be killed, don't you? That it was some kind of sick suicide by cop?" he suggested, his tone raising with each question. "That I _deserved_ it?"

"No, I never…" Angela muttered quickly, desperate to placate him.

"Get out!"

"But…"

"I said… get out!" he repeated.

"I…"

"Out!"

**TBC...**


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: **So. I've been lazy with updating because I've been lazy with writing. Which should have no effect on a completed fic, but apparently it does.

Thank you to fseventh and Ebony10 for reviewing part six. I'll try and get eight up quicker!

x tromana

* * *

><p><strong>Part Seven<strong>

As she drove sedately home, Lisbon nibbled slightly at her lip. She had known that Patrick Jane wasn't as good as he was cracked up to be. That he had to have some kind of secret. Whenever people claimed to be a psychic or the like, Lisbon was rather skeptical. However, even she had to admit that Jane's act had been pretty damn convincing. Still, she wasn't entirely surprised that he had decided to admit the truth to herself and Cho. He had undeniably suffered a trauma recently and that always made people reassess their priorities. She'd seen it happen before and was certain that it would happen again.

Still, it was the way he'd come out with it. It was as if he believed his con had been so obvious, that the whole world should have cottoned on by now. Or rather, that the world was filled with idiots, just waiting to be taken for a ride. Like he'd previously had no moral backbone and was only just discovering that that was a bad thing. Karma had come around and bitten him on the ass and thus, he had decided to finally take action about it.

It was a shame, really, that it had taken a wake up call such as this in order for him to do something about his life. That it had cost the life of his partner, the one person (she believed) who actually meant something to him. Unfortunately for Lisbon, that was also something she was more familiar with than she'd liked to be. Parents deciding to clean up after their kid had been kidnapped and murdered, husbands realizing that cheating is not a good idea after their wives had been shot at close range. Sometimes, she swore that if people had these kind of wake up calls sooner rather than later, then a hell of a lot of lives would be saved as a consequence. Or at least, a lot of the people she had to deal with wouldn't have been quite as rattled by debilitating bouts of guilt.

Of course, Jane had told her that Angela had wanted him to quit prior to her death. Lisbon wasn't entirely sure what to make of that statement; Jane seemed like the kind of man who did what he wanted, when he wanted. Would he have really stopped doing something he apparently loved and made a fair bit of relatively easy money out of in order to please just the one person? Or did he really love Angela that much in order for him to take her desires into serious consideration? Even the most stubborn and clever of people had weak spots, after all. It was what she counted upon when apprehending criminals.

As soon as she was through the front door, she kicked off her shoes and headed straight to the fridge. Peering inside, she picked out a ready-made lasagna and a half-drunk bottle of wine. After thinking that she might have been going a little mad for half the day, she deserved a little pick-me-up. Besides, it had been a long day and she desperately needed to relax and wind down a little. She was home now and therefore, had no need to think about work. Not Red John, not the Ruskin case and certainly not Patrick Jane. His decision to admit to his fraudulent past wasn't any of her business. Though she thought otherwise, she knew it technically wasn't a crime as he had been offering a legitimate service, delivering hope to those willing to pay top dollar for it.

It was only when she was halfway through eating when she realized that she was meant to be going out that night. Guiltily, she rifled through her jacket pocket for her cell phone. Marie wasn't going to be impressed, especially as she had called it when it came to Lisbon backing out of their night out. Then again, work was work and that was always a priority for Lisbon. She was just thankful that, despite her friend's obvious irritation, she generally understood why she had to change their plans so often.

Besides, Lisbon rationalized that she was in no fit state to go out, anyway. She was running on empty thanks to the late night call and knew she had to be firing on all cylinders in the morning. From now on, she was in charge of Red John _and _she had to play the balancing act with other cases too. Though she knew she was more than ready for that level of responsibility, the problem was she would have to prove to her detractors that she was too. Police work was still horrendously sexist, however much she wished it wasn't, and that meant Lisbon had already had to work ten times harder to get to where she was.

And she couldn't just blow it all, simply because she fancied a night out with the girls.

xxx

When she left the CBI headquarters, Angela didn't bother following Lisbon this time around. She knew where she lived and where she worked, so if (or rather, when) she needed to find the cop again, it wouldn't take _too_ long to locate her. Besides, Angela was getting a little fed up with constantly calling at the woman and her only half-listening half of the time. Sooner or later, she would work out a way to make her listen constantly, but for now, she wanted to do something else, to clear her mind a little.

And if she'd been supposedly lucky with one person, it didn't mean it was necessarily a fluke. So, when it came to the supernatural, her brother was as skeptical as it came. It didn't matter, of course it didn't. She had quickly come to the conclusion that Lisbon was dubious about it at best, too, so therefore Angela knew she might as well try her brother. Besides, they had the blood ties. That had to mean something, didn't it.

She smiled slightly as she took a brisk walk towards her brother's apartment complex. He'd told her that he'd chosen it because he wanted the security of living near the CBI. That if anything went wrong, he always had the best cops the state could offer close to hand. Angela had never dared tell him that they were predominantly involved in the _investigative_ side of crime solving, hence the name, she didn't have the heart. Danny had always been nervous of his position in society, especially given his history. Half the reason he'd recently left the carnival circuit was because he followed her. Staying in one place made him feel nervous, on edge. As if any of the people he scammed had the potential of finding out and seeking revenge.

Like Jane, she had spent hours trying to convince him to quit the business. Where she'd had a modicum of success with Jane, she'd had absolutely none with Danny. He'd almost started working for the CBI, only for it to fall through when she and Jane moved to Sacramento. Deep down, she knew that it was related; the bureau didn't need two supposedly psychic consultants, but she liked to pretend otherwise. At least, it made her feel slightly better about her brother's deal by doing so. After all, he had been perfectly content doing what he did, until Angela had announced that she and Jane were leaving.

When she arrived, Danny was outside, wearing a scowl on his face. Another man had cornered him by the door and neither looked particularly happy. Angela approached apprehensively; did she really want to get involved if her brother was about to have an argument with somebody? There had been little she could do when they were kids; usually, she ended up being the one mopping up his cuts and bruises. If this was the afterlife and everything she was being told was right, then there wasn't anything she could do to protect him. But equally, she couldn't exactly be physically hurt, either. Could she?

"Danny?"

He ignored her. She had half-suspected that he would now, after all, that was what the majority of people seemed to do at the moment. With a sigh, she ran a hand through her blonde curls and stepped closer to him, almost close enough to touch. Neither of the two men acknowledged her presence. She might as well have not been there at all. Danny looked a little dazed and was obviously furious. He kept balling up his fist on reflex and Angela realized that he was going to start throwing out punches, if the man intimidating him wasn't careful.

"Leave me alone," Danny muttered at him and the man shook his head.

"We need to-"

"Just go!"

It was then that she saw the face of the other individual. Angela felt as though her heart had dropped to the pit of her stomach and like the temperature had dropped ten degrees in an instant. She knew the face. How could she forget it? This was the man who had attacked her and Jane less than twenty-four hours ago. If some people were to be believed, this was the man who'd _killed_ her. The man that Lisbon and her team were trying desperately to track down.

And now, now he was targeting her younger brother.

What the hell did he want with her and her family? What had the Ruskins done to deserve such treatment?

"I will be back," the man said with a grumble. "You owe me."

As he strolled away, looking altogether far too at ease for somebody who had potentially committed murder the night before, Angela couldn't help but follow. If she could find out some more information, his name, where he lived, the location of the weapon he'd used, then she would hopefully be able to pass it all on. She hadn't given up hope on making the only (living) person in the world listen to her. Perhaps, if she had something that Teresa Lisbon actually wanted to hear, like evidence, then maybe, just maybe, she would be able to talk to her?

Suddenly, she felt a lot more optimistic, considering. She actually had a purpose, something to do, rather than getting frustrated with the world. It also made her feel like a spy with some sort of cloaking device. Like a secret agent, determined to flush out all evil in the world. Nobody noticed her, least of all the man she was sticking to like glue. Staying so close to him meant that she ended up finding it remarkably easy to get exactly what she needed. And for once, the whole nobody noticing her business was useful. It meant that she could get what she wanted, when she wanted and nobody had any intention of stopping her.

In a strange sort of way, Angela found that tracking down this man and gathering up all this useful information was almost _fun_.

xxx

All things considered, the next couple of days were pretty strange.

At first, Lisbon had thought that hearing the voice of the victim from her most recent case had been a fluke. That it had simply been down to sheer exhaustion and her mind acting strangely as a response. However, she had since managed to catch up on some sleep, mostly because the case was proving to be surprisingly slow with no obvious leads, and it was still happening occasionally. If they hadn't had a very obvious dead body, a grieving fiancé and brother, then Lisbon would have wondered if it was a hoax.

Truth be told, it still did briefly cross her mind. Mostly because she didn't like the concept of being able to talk to the dead. People either went to Heaven or Hell, after a brief stint in purgatory. They just didn't hang around on Earth and bother cops, as if they had nothing better to do.

Usually, whenever she apparently heard Angela Ruskin, the woman was irritated, shouting something about having evidence and that she should listen to her. Mostly, she attempted to block it all out. After all, it was rather distracting feeling like you had somebody whispering nonsense down your ear, especially as you were trying to discuss them with your work colleagues.

Briefly, Lisbon had wondered if any of Jane's ex-clients had had a hand in the murder. Mostly because it would provide a plausible motive. If he had stolen something precious from them (such as causing their parents to divorce, or a substantial sum of money for little more than false hope), then it could quite easily have tipped them over the edge. However, there were so many of them and Rigsby and Van Pelt were slowly working through the list. Most of them appeared to have moved out of state or had ceased using Jane's services amicably. Those that hadn't all seemed to have rock-solid alibis.

In short, it was looking less and less like murder and more and more like a mugging gone wrong.

Except, Jane's words lingered in the back of her mind. _He didn't want my money, didn't want my wallet. He just wanted Angela to get away from me. I should have made her go, but she wouldn't listen…_

Lisbon shook her head and stared back down at the file in front of her. Despite the fact they were making next to no progress on the Ruskin case, Minelli had handed them another one. She sighed. Of course, she had been waiting for her workload to increase; had wanted more for her team to focus on, but what with Red John, Angela's murder and training Van Pelt, she didn't quite feel ready for more. Then again, you arrested one scumbag and another three popped up to replace him. Their work was never ending; she should have known that this would happen, sooner or later.

She'd been here a long while, probably too long. Still, Lisbon didn't feel quite ready to leave work. Instead, she headed into the kitchenette and fixed herself a coffee. Just something to keep her awake for another hour or so before heading home to bed. It wasn't long before she was back behind her desk. With a contented smile, she wrapped her fingers around the mug and inhaled. So, it was rather cheap and certainly not the best quality, but she was ready for it. Lisbon lifted it to her mouth and took a quick sip.

"You drink too much caffeine," somebody said and Lisbon jumped, spilling the coffee onto her hand. "No wonder you don't sleep well at night."

"Excuse me?"

"It's true," they asserted, sounding rather cheerful. "If caffeine was discovered today, it would probably be an illegal substance, you know."

"How enlightening," Lisbon replied sarcastically and mopped up the hot drink with a serviette. "Now, instead of hiding why don't you-"

"I'm standing right in front of you."

"Not again," she moaned and let her head fall in her hands. "I'm sleeping, aren't I? I've fallen asleep at my desk again and-"

"No."

"No?" she echoed.

"You're awake."

"It's Angela again, isn't it?"

"Yes. Can you see me?" Angela asked, sounding hopeful.

"No."

"Listening is better than nothing," Angela said, with a shrug and sat down in the chair opposite Lisbon.

"Yeah, I'm not so sure about that."


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: **I have to have another MRI done. Yay! Thought those were over and done with. Oh well...

Thank you to: Ebony10, SteeleSimz and Galxychld for reviewing part seven.

Also, the Paint It Red Awards are currently looking for voters - please check it out and support your favourite fics and artists.

x tromana

* * *

><p><strong>Part Eight<strong>

The newest case proved to be comparatively simple next to the Ruskin case. Or at least, it would have been if she hadn't had Angela Ruskin breathing down her neck every five seconds. Lisbon thought she deserved an easy break once in a while, but Angela appeared to be one of the most persistent people she'd ever met. And considering what her brothers were like, that was saying something. Still, for the most part, she doggedly ignored Angela. She had a job to do and she was going to do it well. She wouldn't let voices in her head distract her from putting another scumbag behind bars.

Lisbon could understand Angela's frustration, however. When her mom had died, she'd never understood why the cops kept pushing the case to one side, why they had claimed that other things were of more of a priority. When something involved _you_, naturally, you ended up believing that that was of the utmost importance. For Angela, that meant finding the man who had attacked and killed her. It didn't matter that there was a serial killer case that Lisbon would quite like to close, nor that there was another family, mourning the loss of their son after a strangling.

That was if Angela wasn't just a figment of her imagination, of course. Lisbon still wasn't entirely convinced that a ghost, of all things, was speaking back to her. Not least one that was in the center of one of her cases. After all, dead people weren't meant to speak back to her. Yes, it was her job to understand them well enough to find out who killed them, but actually talking to them? That was another matter entirely. Dead bodies just didn't have a say, because they were _dead_. So, believing that Angela was something cooked up in her mind was almost easier to accept than the alternative. The concept of thinking she was going slightly mad was a little daunting, but it could always have been explained away by guilt. The case was troubling her, she hadn't got anywhere with it and thus, she felt desperately sorry for the victim because she couldn't honor her in death. Therefore, her mind was simply acting in strange ways until she made a decision about the case one way or another.

"What are you doing?"

Lisbon jumped with a start at the sound of the now-familiar voice. Angela had been pleasantly quiet that morning and Lisbon had believed that she had finally turned a corner. That she had accepted that not every case needed to be closed within a week of hitting her desk. She sighed; obviously, she had no such luck this time around. Angela was still sticking around, much to her irritation. Nervously, she glanced through the blinds and out into the corridor. There wasn't anyone around, that was a good sign.

"Looking into the credentials of a murder victim. Why?"

"You're looking into my finances?" Angela replied, sounding a bit horrified at the concept. "That's _private_. Let me see."

"It's not to do with you," Lisbon said coolly.

"Oh. You're working that other case?"

"Yes, I am."

"But what about...?"

"The same as I said before."

"Oh please, I've seen you playing Spider Solitaire," Angela retorted angrily.

Eventually, Lisbon dropped her pen to rub her temples. The impending headache had finally come to fruition and Lisbon wished that she had actually taken action before now. After all, she knew the warning signs all too well. She shouldn't have convinced herself that she was fine, that she shouldn't bother taking painkillers. Now, she was going to be lumbered with a thumping head until bed and that was just Angela. Never mind the chronic pain she was suffering from on top of that. Knowing full well that it was too little, too late, Lisbon rummaged in her drawer for the tub of Tylenol she kept stashed in there. If nothing else, the placebo effect might have half a chance of taking the edge off of it.

"Only on my lunch break," Lisbon hissed warily. "If I'm working on a case, I take it seriously."

"Yeah, you tell yourself that. From where I'm standing…"

"I don't even know where you're standing. For all _I_ know, you could be a figment of my imagination."

"If I was, then you have a very strange imagination," Angela said, amused by the concept. "Why aren't you working my case?"

"I have other priorities."

"What? Like what?"

"Like this case here!"

She gestured to the file in front of her. Lisbon wasn't lying; they had hit an important juncture in the case and with any luck, the case would be closed within the next forty eight hours. Van Pelt and Cho were conducting a search of a house at that very moment and Rigsby was interviewing the boy's father for a second time. Half of her was expecting a phone call imminently to update her on whether or not they'd discovered anything of interest. However, Angela clearly didn't care about that. It was a distraction, unimportant. It didn't give her the answers she craved.

"You should be looking harder!"

"I am _not_ a miracle worker," Lisbon shouted, before quietening down. "The CBI is understaffed and underpaid. What do you want us to do? Work all hours of the day, covering the same ground and getting nothing in return? Run ourselves into the ground as we try and solve seven cases at the same time? Put the wrong people behind bars just to increase efficiency? Well?"

"Sorry I spoke," Angela muttered. "I'll leave you to it."

"Thank you."

Five minutes later and the room felt strangely empty. Still, that was exactly what Lisbon had wanted. Once more, she picked up the pen and started scratching away at the paper in front of her. Maybe Angela wasn't in her mind at all? Maybe there was such a thing as ghosts?

xxx

Danny immediately handed Jane a mug of coffee. Though he disliked it, quite considerably even, he didn't say no. The situation was bizarre enough as it was, without making it even more so by causing a fuss. Danny didn't need to help him with the funeral arrangements; Jane had that under control. However, as Danny was exceedingly close to his sister, Jane couldn't say no to his assistance. The man deserved to bid farewell to his sister, just as he himself needed to say goodbye to his fiancée. He had no right to deny the man that right; Angela had been a human being, he couldn't stake claim to her in such a way.

Not that that had stopped Danny from trying to do so on multiple occasions.

But that was beside the point; it was in the past, ancient history. Previous spats and arguments meant nothing now, especially as the person in question had been dead for nearly a week. And it was a week that had dragged by painfully slowly. There had been the procession of people offering tea and sympathy. More bunches of flowers (including a surprisingly touching bouquet from the CBI, especially as he hadn't officially started working for the Sacramento branch yet) than he could count. His phone hadn't stopped ringing, cards had built up on the mantelpiece…

In a way, it felt a bit like a dream. Like he was living somebody else's life. Jane knew that he was just going through the motions, acting as people expected him to do so. It was an autonomous reaction, he couldn't help it. From his brief stint working with the police already, he knew it was an atypical reaction of those in mourning. To pretend that everything was normal and to just get on with it. That there was time to really address the situation and what was going on at a later date.

"Well."

"Yes."

Sometimes, it was hard for them to talk. They spent so much time second-guessing one another, as one might have expected of two con artists at the top of their game. The tricks they'd both learned were hard to switch off, even in situations when really, they were unnecessary. Jane wished he could just take Danny's help at face value, rather than treating him with an air of suspicion. After all, he must have been hit by the loss of Angela just as badly as Jane himself had been. However, this was exactly the situation the both of them preyed upon in other people. Vulnerable people, looking for answers and what ifs. Looking for false hope, where really, there should be none.

Danny pushed forward a brochure. More flowers, apparently. As if he really needed any more blooms at this specific moment in time. Still, society dictated that at a funeral, flowers were a requirement. It didn't matter that within a week, they'd be as dead as the person they'd been bought to honor, so long as they were pretty. Really, it was all just some kind of sick and morbid plot to make money out of people who were at their lowest. And that made Jane feel even worse. After all, he had been there time and time again, rubbing salt into the wound. How would he have felt if somebody was doing exactly the same to him, right now?

"This one's nice."

"Yeah."

Jane wasn't in the mood to argue. He didn't care how much it cost right now, it wouldn't make a shred of difference. It wasn't as if he didn't have the money, not after his most recent television appearance. Really, the amount he'd been paid just for that one showing was positively ghastly, especially given the amount the people who really deserved it got paid for their jobs. The firefighters, the doctors and nurses, the cops. They all earned pittance for jobs that were a thousand times harder than his and got such little credit for it to boot.

All he did was poach on the vulnerable and make a quick buck.

Throughout the afternoon, Jane listened to Danny's inanity, let him make the majority of decisions and drank the stale coffee. Occasionally, he left, if only to answer a knock at the door or somebody on the phone. Even then, it wasn't a reprieve. Everything was a constant reminder and Jane suspected that that wouldn't change for a considerable amount of time.

He looked at his cell phone and thought for a second. He needed a distraction. The sooner he could assist the CBI, the better. If Agent Lisbon would have him, of course.

xxx

"What do you think you're doing?"

Naturally, Angela had been pretty angry since the incident five days and seventeen hours ago. It was understandable; having one person only half-listening to you and the one willing to hold a conversation insisting you were dead was going to have some kind of effect on your mood. However, she had just hit the proverbial glass ceiling. However mad she had been previously, this was the tipping point. Enough was enough. She was going to explode and naturally, the sole target for that was going to be Teresa Lisbon.

Lisbon looked up at Angela, surprised. Angela knew the woman still couldn't see her and it was more luck than anything else. If she hadn't been fuming, then she might have taken a little comfort in that. Instead, she was just pissed as hell and desperate to get to the bottom of the current predicament. Not that she suspected she had much of a chance. Lisbon was still insistent that Angela was merely a figment of her imagination, that she couldn't possibly be real. And when she wasn't thinking like that, she was more than happy to subscribe to the ghost theory. But that was all beside the point; the problem was the piece of paper Lisbon that had just signed.

Angela knew that a lot of police work had turned into bureaucracy, but even she had been surprise at just how many hours Lisbon seemed to spend behind her desk. If only her time could be used more effectively, then maybe she would have caught the man who had put her in this state by now. She had supplied Lisbon with the address, but the cop had just mocked her. Claimed that the man could have been anyone and besides, if she was just in her mind, it was herself, fabricating stories to give her false hopes (and leads) in attempt to close the case and salve her conscience. Of course, Angela knew it was poppycock, but that didn't mean Lisbon budged even an inch in her resolve.

"Signing the case over to the Organized Crimes Unit," Lisbon said, confirming Angela's fears.

"Why would you want to do something like that?"

"Minelli's instructions," said retorted with a shrug. "It's under their jurisdiction and…"

She waved noncommittally at a couple of manila files that had recently appeared on her desk. Angela didn't even need to wait for her to open them to know what they were: more cases. Lisbon had just closed the one that had been distracting her a couple of days ago and Angela had been hoping that she would finally move back to her case. However, instead, it had been replaced with more. It was looking like there was no chance of a reprieve now.

If things carried on in this way, that meant she would end up in a similar state to the poor CBI ghost. Not sure whether or not she was coming or going, just holding a lingering resentment for the fact that things just didn't work out right.

"But it is under your jurisdiction. If I was _murdered_," Angela said, spitting the word out with disgust, "as everyone seems convinced I'm dead, then I've already provided you with details of a murder suspect."

"And I told you, it's not enough. It's just…"

Lisbon trailed off and instead, signed the piece of paper. As she did so, Angela tried desperately to steal the pen out of her hands or the paperwork out from under her nose, but failed dismally. She didn't want anyone else working the case, least of all the Organized Crimes cowboys. Reluctantly, she had grown to trust Lisbon and her team and anyway, there were no guarantees that she would be able to talk to the lead agent of the OCU.

Angela followed Lisbon out of her office, still offering her a tirade of abuse. She could tell that she was getting a little upset and irritated by it, due to the frown deepening on her face. But still, she ignored Angela and headed towards Minelli's office. Angela, however, gave up at the bullpen. Sometimes, you just had to give up on a lost cause. With a heavy sigh that was noticed by nobody, she flopped back down on the leather couch. This just wasn't fair.

"What are you doing here?" a familiar voice snapped. "Didn't I tell you to get the hell out of here?"

"I'm sorry – it's just, Lisbon and I…"

"I don't want to hear it!" the CBI ghost cried, getting angrier by the second. "This is _my_ domain. Get out, get out, get out!"

Rolling her eyes, Angela moved as fast as her feet could carry her. She didn't want to spend another moment within the CBI headquarters right now anyway. Besides, she needed to form a plan of attack, to finally convince Lisbon that she wasn't a figment of her imagination. To make her take the case back and actually work on it as she should have been doing so.


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: **I'm about to go off to meet lil smiles. We're going to see a show, no idea what yet. Just thought I'd update this little thing first.

Thanks to Ebony10 for reviewing part eight.

x tromana

* * *

><p><strong>Part Nine<strong>

Jane fingered his cell phone apprehensively. Was it too soon to be calling the CBI, to ask about the job? He hadn't even buried Angela yet, never mind anything else. But still, if he didn't make some kind of effort to do something, it would soon subsume him. There were times, which were growing increasingly more frequent, when he wondered what if? What would have happened if he'd insisted that Angela did as their attacker had requested? She would have been fine, surely? But what about him? Would he have gotten out of the situation unscathed or would that have been too much to ask?

Besides, what the hell did the man want anyway?

Pushing the phone away, he headed into the kitchen. He should probably have done some of the dishes by now; they had been stacking up all week. However, he just couldn't be bothered. He couldn't see the point anymore. Who cared whether or not he did the housework now or in a week's time? This was his home; nobody else had the right to judge him about how he kept it. It didn't affect anyone else. It_ used_ to, but obviously that had all changed now. Angela couldn't complain either way if he didn't put his shoes away or forgot to do the vacuuming.

He sighed and sipped at a cold cup of tea. Jane couldn't even be bothered to get up and get a fresh one, however disgusting it was. The house was quiet; almost too quiet. Nobody had stopped by recently and the phone had stopped ringing. There weren't any distractions at the moment and that was half the problem. It was the main reason he wanted to get back to work, to have something else to focus on instead of the grief (and guilt) which kept attacking him in waves. People always said that the memory of someone, what they were like, was enough to spur you on and ensure you honoured their memory. However, Jane wasn't quite so sure. It had even been a chore to peel himself out of bed this morning.

Shaking his head, he picked up the phone once more and dialed the number he'd been given. If he didn't do it now, he never would. Virgil Minelli had informed him that, whenever he was ready to start working, to just give him a call. Instead, Jane had decided to phone Teresa Lisbon. He knew that when he started working, he'd be with her, so there was little point in going through the grapevine. It was easier just to go straight to her. Besides, she had supplied him with her personal contact numbers so that he could inform her of anything he ended up remembering about Angela's murder. Not that he had remembered any more important details. Then again, it was entirely possible he was repressing the memories simply because he didn't want to face them.

"_Hello, this is Teresa Lisbon. I can't get to the phone right now, but please-"_

He cut it off before it even reached the end of the answerphone message. That was just typical. Jane knew he was being uncharacteristically shy, but Lisbon was a very forthcoming woman. It was easy to be intimidated by her, however kind of sympathetic she appeared at face value. He supposed she had to be, in order to garner the respect she required from co-workers and the people she dealt with. Police work was always a very masculine environment, so she had to fight against the stereotypes. Still, all he had to do was work out a way to get into that steely exterior and then he'd be fine. He was just feeling vulnerable because of everything that had happened and he had taken a knock to his confidence.

It was only natural, considering the more he thought about it, the more he blamed himself.

Standing, he grabbed his keys. He needed to get out of this place, before it ate him up alive. As he left, he didn't have a particular destination in mind, just that he needed to get some fresh air and away from the constant reminders of what he'd lost.

xxx

After a couple of seconds, Lisbon placed down her drink and cocked her head quizzically. She had finally managed to meet up with Maria for that long-awaited night out and was finally getting some peace. But now, something didn't quite feel right, again. It was colder, somehow. Rather like it had been when she'd been hallucinating. Either that or being stalked by a ghost named Angela Ruskin. For some reason, Lisbon didn't particularly like the sound of either. The first meant she needed to put some serious consideration into her mental state and the latter would require completely readdressing her beliefs system. She had been brought up to firmly believe that ghosts weren't real. If ghosts did exist, her mother, who was taken tragically, too soon, would still have been beside her, wouldn't she? Quickly, she glanced over at her friend. Maria had her head buried in her beer and barely noticed her friend's distraction.

"Boo."

"Going for the traditional haunting now, I see?" Lisbon muttered under her breath.

"What?" Maria asked, looking thoroughly confused.

"Get rid of her!"

Lisbon froze; she hadn't expected Maria to overhear. Truth be told, she had barely realized that she had spoken out loud at all. Suddenly, she was very relieved that the woman sitting opposite her was already tipsy and quickly heading towards being 'drunk'. Maria was such a lightweight, always had been but had never learned when exactly to stop, but still insisted every meal out had to be topped off with a drink or two. That being said, it made her the ideal drinking buddy as Lisbon always knew that however much she drank, she would never be in as much of a state as Maria McDonald. And besides, it distracted her from work. Maria had utterly no idea what it was like to be a cop and never had any desire to learn. Most importantly, unlike the majority of Lisbon's work colleagues, she didn't forget she was a woman. They got to talk about trivialities, things that would go straight over Cho and Rigsby's heads and Van Pelt would simply have been too nervous to bring up. Utter nonsense, too. Maria was always an excellent source for that.

Though this situation would probably be too bizarre even for her.

"Hurry up," Angela hissed in Lisbon's ear. "Hurry up, hurry up, hurry up, hurry up, hurry up!"

"Maria… there's a guy sitting behind you - don't look - and I think he might want to make a move."

"_What_?" Maria shrieked and Lisbon smirked to herself as her friend started rummaging urgently through her purse. "What does he look like?"

"Hurry!"

"Hot," Lisbon stated before realizing that she had to expand on that. "Tall, dark hair, dark eyes. Bit of stubble."

Maria nodded furiously, but didn't even bother to glance at Lisbon as she searched desperately for one specific item. She looked triumphant when she eventually retrieved a small mirror. Quickly, she glanced in it, scrutinizing her appearance and cursed when she realized her make-up had become smudged.

"Shit," she swore before standing. "Need to go fix my mascara. Will you be okay on your own for a short while?"

"Sure, I'm a big girl now. I think I can manage."

"You're such a joker, Tess."

And with that, Maria headed straight for the ladies. Angela sat down in the chair that she had quickly vacated, not that Lisbon noticed. Instead, she stared down at the cocktail she had been sipping at for the past half an hour or so and stirred it morosely. This was the last thing she needed.

"When I said 'hurry up', I meant a little faster than that."

"What do you think I am? A miracle worker?" Lisbon said, repeating the exact phrase she had used with Angela earlier.

"No, but you are a cop."

"That doesn't mean I can do magic," Lisbon stated derisively. "And besides, I'm off duty. No badge, no gun. See?"

"I see. But surely even off-duty, you're meant to report a crime you know has been committed?" Angela queried politely.

"What crime?"

"Same one as usual."

"It's been transferred to another unit," Lisbon said through gritted teeth. "I can't do anything more, I'm sorry."

"But…"

"Besides, do you have any new evidence?"

"Maybe?"

Lisbon tutted derisively. Angela probably didn't have anything new to say and was just desperate for her to look up the man she had followed home. She had had a quick look on the system to see if anything popped but of course, nothing in particular had. After that, she had just pushed the concept to one side.

"And anyway, have you any idea how ridiculous I'd look down at the office?" she quickly answered back and Angela flinched slightly. "I mean it feels ridiculous enough as it is and I'm drunk."

"No you're not; it's only your second."

"Correction," Lisbon stated. "I _was _enjoying a quiet drink with a good friend, until you rudely interrupted."

"Oh really?" Angela questioned. "You didn't look like you were having fun."

"This is my downtime. I should be free to spend it how I please. Figuratively speaking."

Immediately after, she glanced back down at her drink. Then, she pushed it away. Suddenly it seemed so much less tempting. Maybe it was the sobering effect of talking to a ghost. Or realizing that she would have much preferred their previous encounters to have all been in her mind because therefore, she could have merely blamed it on being overworked and underpaid. Instead, it was looking more and more likely that this was actually real and not some bizarre set-up courtesy of an overactive imagination. Or worse, a television show picking on her for goodness knew what reason.

"So you've changed your mind about drinking then?"

"No, I'm waiting for my friend. It's polite, you know. Or not, considering you've hijacked our evening."

"I'm _sorry_, but it's not every day you die," Angela replied, sniffing slightly.

"Most dead people I deal with don't tend to answer back," Lisbon muttered in response. "And besides, you died a _week _ago. Not today."

"That's just semantics."

"Where are you, anyway?"

"Right opposite you."

"Really?"

"No," she answered sarcastically. "Of course I am. Do you think I'd lie to you?"

"How should I know? I don't even know you."

"You've spent a week poking your nose into my private life, how can you _not_ know?"

Lisbon went to retort, but instead, jumped when she felt her friend's hand gently brush against her shoulder. Maria apologized profusely for scaring her, before explaining she was about to head off with Oli, the guy who had been eyeing her up before her disappearance. With a quick shrug, Lisbon smiled before confirming that she didn't mind being deserted and that she had to be at work early in the morning. It was a blatant lie, but Maria was drunk enough to either not notice or care. Warily, Lisbon scanned the bar, realizing that she had probably looked completely insane for the past ten minutes. She may have been able to hear Angela, clear as day, but she couldn't see her. And neither could the bar's other patrons. Hastily, she grabbed her jacket and headed for the door.

"Where are you going?"

She cursed as she heard a voice that was growing all too familiar in her left ear. Lisbon had hoped that by simply leaving, Angela would take the hint and leave her alone. That she would decide to go and bother somebody else for a change. Maybe that person, the supposed killer, she had been so adamant she should visit. At least, if Angela was telling the truth, he would appreciate her company significantly more than she did.

xxx

When Lisbon disappeared off home, stubbornly ignoring her, Angela grew annoyed yet again. What she really needed was something more solid, something to pinpoint a reason as to why Lisbon (or whoever) should investigate the man she had seen conversing with her brother further. Until she had something like that, they were going to continually keep hitting the same walls. Lisbon wouldn't do anything because she didn't have any evidence and she wouldn't use Angela's tip-off because she was either dead or, apparently, stuck in Lisbon's mind.

Listlessly, Angela padded down the same well-traveled road to her brother's home. Even before she moved to Sacramento, this part of the city had been familiar to her. Danny had made his home here long before Jane had suggested they move in. Her brother had always liked the fact that the city had been far enough away from Jane to stop him from poaching his clientele. The fact that he had chosen to move close by had set him on edge, even if it had meant that his sister would be close by Angela knew that that was blindingly obvious. After all, Danny always saw Jane as a threat, ever since they were both small. It was only natural that he would think the worst about him.

She smiled slightly at the thought of seeing Danny again. Angela hoped that she'd be able to find him easily, or at least gain access to his apartment block. For some reason, she was still having trouble navigating doors and the like; unless somebody left them open for long enough for her to slip through first. Anyway, seeing Danny gave her something to focus on and distracted her from the irritation she felt for Lisbon and the police in general. It was no wonder they never got anything done, if they were constantly finding excuses to have their hands tied together.

When she reached the building, Danny was standing in almost exactly the same spot as the previous occasion, with the same harried expression on his face. It was little wonder; the same man was facing him and looking as intimidating as he had done the previous time. Automatically, Angela rushed forwards, despite the fact she was getting used to people essentially ignoring her all the while.

"Danny!" she called, to no avail. "Danny, you need to get-"

"Don't you get it?" Danny said, completely ignoring her. "If we don't do something soon, if we don't get away from here, then Red John…"

Angela froze. Red John. She knew that name all too well. For a start, Jane had been doing a lot of research into the serial killer in order to prepare for offering his services to the CBI. As an additional bonus, it meant that it had given him a chance to perfect his act and reference before appearing on that damn television show. It was also one of the cases that had kept Teresa Lisbon from investigating the man standing before her brother.

But why the hell was Danny referencing Red John anyway? What kind of connection did he have with the murderer? She knew that before Jane had requested the move to the Sacramento department of the CBI, Danny had almost gotten his nose into the same case. He'd done some work with a few of the other units, he'd told the fact proudly on more than one occasion. However, Red John was a big deal, the one where the money was. Danny had been looking forward to the challenge, only for it to be whisked away from him. What worried Angela was the fact he was talking about Red John as if he had some sort of deal with him. A deal that had involved her for one reason or another.

"Dude, Red John ain't doing nothing," the man replied and spat on the ground. "Killing his girlfriend? That'll cripple Mr. Jane for life."

"That was my sister!"

"I know and I said I was sorry. You can't change the past, man."

"And Red John expects things to be done precisely to order! If he doesn't then…"

"You're worrying about nothing."

He shook his head frenetically and Angela remained rooted to the spot, horrified by what she was hearing.

"If Jane isn't dead within two weeks, I'm dead," Danny stated, sounding withdrawn. "We're _both_ dead. Don't you get it?"


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: **So, we've hit the halfway point of updating this thing. Then, I might be able to start posting Brushes With Death and Follow The Yellow Brick Road...

Thank you to BekaForEva, Galxychld and Ebony10 for reviewing part nine.

x tromana

* * *

><p><strong>Part Ten<strong>

"Hello."

"So, you're back again?"

"Of course I'm back again, where did you think I would go?"

"Oh I don't know, to bother somebody else?" Lisbon suggested.

"Like anyone else would bother listening to me."

Lisbon fell into a stony silence. If she had a choice, she probably wouldn't bother listening to Angela too. The dead were meant to stay dead, not start haunting you from beyond the grave. And all Angela had done since she had first seen her body was pester her continuously for no apparent reason. The more Lisbon considered it, the more she fretted about whether or not she was going insane. She certainly didn't feel like she was going mad and no other aspect of her life had changed. It was just this one and it came and went. But was this really how schizophrenia manifested itself? Lisbon didn't even know Angela until she had been presented with an early morning phone call. What had been the trigger to start it all?

"Stop thinking you're going mad. You're not."

"I wasn't thinking that," Lisbon retorted, somewhat nervously.

"I'm as real as you are."

"Then why can't I _see_ you?"

"Don't ask me. I'm just here, trying to help you do your job."

"I'm perfectly capable of doing my job without your assistance, thank you very much."

"Please," Angela said with a derisive snort. "If that were the case, you wouldn't have had to pass the case over."

"You're talking as if it's the only one of importance."

"Well it is to me."

"Of course," Lisbon sighed, "do you have anything of use to say or are you just bothering me for the fun of it again?"

"I have something."

Lisbon promptly ignored her and instead, kept her eyes firmly focused on the road ahead. For a start, she had a feeling that Angela was simply going to repeat the same old things she'd said to her beforehand. She seemed to have a tendency to do that, mostly in the vain hope that it would end up battling down Lisbon's resolve until she did so. But what was she meant to do? Tell her boss that she was either going crazy, hearing voices in her head or that a ghost might have been giving her tip offs? It was ludicrous to the extreme. Besides, she also needed to get to work in one piece; otherwise she'd be in trouble. At least she hadn't ended up drinking all that much with Maria the night before; she was more than safe to drive. Lisbon was always one to take specific care when it came to driving under the influence, what with her family history. The last thing she wanted was history repeating itself and some other family put into disarray due to something that she could have avoided herself.

Her cellphone rang shrilly and automatically, Lisbon put it onto speakerphone. It was the safest way to talk without distracting her too much while behind the wheel. Cho quickly updated her on the current situation – they had just brought in a suspect in their most recent case and Rigsby had been hurt in the process. Though Van Pelt had been more than happy to drive him to the ER, Cho simply wanted to keep his boss in the loop and let her know that he would wait until she arrived at headquarters before questioning the man. As she answered Cho, Angela made her disgust known in the background. Lisbon couldn't help but wonder if Cho could hear her or not and if not, why the hell she could and he couldn't. That was provided that it wasn't in her head of course, as Angela insisted it wasn't.

"Are you done?" Angela snapped as Lisbon bade him farewell.

"For now," she answered dryly.

"Good. Maybe now, you'll actually listen to me."

"What do you have to say?"

There was a sense that Lisbon felt resigned to her fate in her voice. For some reason, she suspected that Angela didn't care. The woman sounded agitated, desperate even from the moment that she had started speaking. It was like she had specifically waited until they were in motion, simply because it meant that neither of them could walk away from the situation and they were both going to be forced to hear one another out. Lisbon hoped that meant that she actually had something new to say rather than recycling the same old messages that she had been hearing for over a week now. In a way, Lisbon wondered if she would be able to deal with this whole situation more if she could actually see Angela, rather than just hear her. She knew what Angela looked like; of course she did, but it wasn't the same. It wasn't as tangible as seeing someone actually speaking the words.

"Well?" she prompted when Angela didn't answer.

"Two words: Red John."

Automatically, Lisbon glanced to her right, assuming that was where Angela was sitting. They were two words which she was probably least expecting the woman to say. How else was she meant to react to such a bombshell? It was lucky that she hadn't responded by doing an emergency stop and inadvertently causing a pile up.

"Keep your eyes on the road!" Angela squealed.

"What do you care? You're _dead_."

"Yes, but you're not!"

Lisbon was still stunned by her admission and tried to refocus. She was still in control of a car, something which she knew full well could be (and had been, on occasion) a very dangerous weapon.

"But you will be if you keep driving like this!" she added.

"Explain," she demanded, believing Angela would be thrilled at the chance to talk freely.

xxx

Virgil Minelli shook his hand firmly. Jane liked that in a man; it showed that he knew what he wanted, that he wasn't going to be easily swayed by relatively trivial matters. In spite of that, he had been more than easily swayed by Jane's psychic act, mostly because he had been the one to reveal that his (now ex-)wife had been cheating on him. He remembered the day well; the woman had been the one to persuade Minelli that having a psychic reading 'for fun' would have been a good idea. However Minelli had been the easier mark. It was that feeling of debt that had caused him to be more than happy to offer him a position in Sacramento in lieu of Danny. Jane's charm, showmanship and brutal honesty had won the man over instantaneously. It was good to see that the good feeling and charm had yet to rub off.

"I'm sure you've heard it often enough," Minelli started tentatively as he wordlessly offered Jane a seat. "But I think I speak for the entirety of the CBI when I say we're very sorry for your loss."

"I appreciate it, really."

In all honesty, he didn't. He'd come to the CBI in order to get away from the constant reminders of what had happened, rather than having it brought up yet again. Just over a week and already, the (usually) false sympathy was grating. What did the CBI care that Angela had been brutally murdered in front of him? Murder was their business; without it, they'd all be out of a job. It may have been somewhat macabre, but they had to expect and even hope for it on some level otherwise there would be mass unemployment in their work sector.

Still, despite the incongruity, he smiled genially and accepted the cup of tea he'd just been offered. Minelli had even remembered that he had a preference for it over coffee, a detail he naturally appreciated. Jane blew across the hot liquid before taking a sip. It was over-stewed, just as he'd expected, but he couldn't complain. The sentiment was there. Besides, the man hadn't just brushed him aside, told him to go home and grieve. Agent Lisbon, however, still appeared too busy to take his calls. That was something that disappointed him. What if he'd remembered something important about the case? An accurate description of the man, the number plate of a car that had been following them or the like? Whenever it came to murder, Jane knew as well as anybody that time was of the essence. Given too long and leads swiftly dried up. Naturally, he was living in fear of that happening here. The last thing he wanted was for Angela not to get the justice she deserved, partially because things could have been so much different if he'd played his role differently.

"I suppose you want to know about your fiancée's case?"

Jane made a noncommittal shrug which Minelli automatically took as a yes.

"We have our best suited team working on it. Things are progressing smoothly."

"Agent Lisbon's team?" he queried hopefully, though the expression on Minelli's face suggested otherwise.

"No, no. Haffner's. Organized Crimes," the special senior agent said, confirming Jane's suspicions. "We have come to the conclusion that it was a mugging gone wrong-"

"But it _wasn't_. It was…"

"Let's allow Haffner and his team to do their job, shall we?" Minelli said, holding up a hand to silence Jane's retorts. "If they come to a different conclusion, then I'm more than happy to admit I'm wrong."

In response, Jane raised a skeptical eyebrow which Minelli immediately brushed aside. There was no point in arguing with Jane, he always had an ace up his sleeve, sometimes quite literally. Minelli had seen that first hand.

"Is there anything else I can do for you?"

"Yes," Jane confirmed immediately. "I want to start work as soon as possible."

"It's only been a week. Are you sure you're ready?"

"Yes."

"Very well," Minelli stated, not willing to argue. "I will inform Agent Lisbon you will be starting with her team first thing in the morning. Welcome to the CBI, Patrick Jane."

xxx

"I don't believe you," Lisbon stated flatly.

"Come on," Angela said, surprised at Lisbon's reluctance to believe her. "Do you really think I'd sell my own brother to the cops?"

"I don't know. Some people would."

"Yeah, usually they are the ones already involved in law enforcement."

When Lisbon glanced downwards, Angela knew that she had probably hit a sore spot. Still, she persisted. As far as she was concerned, the sooner she could make Lisbon see her point of view, the better. All she wanted was answers, whatever the cost. She had a feeling that as soon as the murderer, attacker, whatever you wanted to call him, was apprehended and then she would be freed from this state. Then, she would be alive or dead or whichever and not trapped between worlds or feelings. Or whatever it was she could describe herself as being at this specific moment in time.

"If I didn't believe this would persuade you I was being genuine, I wouldn't have told you."

"Yeah, I guess."

Lisbon still looked a little unsure. At least she seemed a little more convinced of the reality of the situation, rather than it all being stuck in her head. She wouldn't have been able to imagine such a thing as Red John being somehow involved in a seemingly unrelated crime. Though she had naturally questioned Danny, he had given her no reason to question his innocence. Angela knew that because she had watched Lisbon, alongside Van Pelt, talk to him with her own two eyes. This meant she was finally progressing, finally realizing what she probably needed to do.

"But Red John?" Lisbon repeated, still struggling to come to terms with the fact. "Why would he be involved? This isn't his MO."

"How should I know? Besides, I thought it was your job to work that one out."

"Do I have to remind you that the case is no longer in my hands?" Lisbon snapped angrily.

"Red John is!"

"But what you say is just supposition. There's no evidence."

"Evidence, it always comes down to evidence with you!" Angela replied, equaling Lisbon's tone. "What do you want me to do? Hand you Red John and the man who attacked me on a silver platter?"

"No, but that's what the Assistant District Attorney wants before he'll hand me over a search warrant for that man's or your own brother's apartments."

Standing, Angela paced around the small office, trying to burn off some pent-up rage. Lisbon seemed oblivious to the fact and instead, drummed her fingers against her desk. She didn't really seem to care about Angela's obvious frustration, nor just how stubborn she appeared to be. Angela hadn't met somebody quite as inflexible as Patrick Jane before Lisbon. And he was meant to start working with her, starting tomorrow, according to a telephone call Lisbon had received prior to Angela restarting this specific conversation. That was going to be interesting to say the least.

"I'm sorry, but surely you have a responsibility to-"

"How? How do I investigate this?"

"Say it's an anonymous tip off," Angela suggested, genuinely meaning it.

Lisbon let off an unladylike snort suggesting that the likelihood of that working was minimal. Angela frowned and continued walking in circles. She felt like they were finally getting somewhere, that Lisbon was just scraping the barrel to try and find excuses that would work.

"I guess it's better than making out I'm going crazy."

"That is a bonus," Angela admitted.

"But really, an anonymous tip off needs a source."

"I thought that was me."

"Well, obviously, but I need something tangible to show Minelli. A text message, an e-mail…"

"You're all as bad as each other here."

They both fell silent. Angela sat down again, growing sick of just walking around aimlessly. If only she could get Lisbon to agree to do something constructive. She would have stopped bothering her and started on Haffner, if he'd have listened to her, but like everyone else, he was oblivious. Instead, Lisbon was her only connection with the land of the living. That meant she was her only hope in getting to the bottom of things.

It still hurt to think that her own brother was implicated with a dangerous serial killer like Red John, especially given the fact he had worked for the CBI too. Still, in a way, it was fortuitous because it gave her a reason to persuade Lisbon not to let the subject drop. Red John was very much in her jurisdiction and if cases had a crossover, it meant she had every right to continue investigating them. Or something like that anyway. The problem was getting around all the red tape that Lisbon was insistent upon continuing to throw up, as if it were the most important factor in this entire sorry situation. Still, the rules were the rules and in a way, Angela felt sorry for her. She had observed Lisbon for long enough to know that she just wanted to get the job done. Bureaucracy was simply something that got in her way of being an effective cop.

"Can't you just say that you were told directly and you're protecting the identity of the person who told you for fear of their life?"

"Very funny," Lisbon answered with a smirk.

"I might not be dead."

"I saw your body. It's in the state morgue."

"Are you sure about that?"

"Yes!"

"Well I'm not," Angela said, as if that were all that mattered. "Please. I'm just asking you for this one thing."

"I'd need to talk to Jane before investigating further. See whether or not he suspects Danny of any implication with Red John. It'd give me some weight before heading to the court house," Lisbon said, musing out loud. "He is, after all, consulting on Red John, starting from tomorrow."

"Do it. Please. Please?"

Lisbon's shoulders sagged a little. "Yes, fine. Okay."

"Thank you!"

"Why do I have the feeling I'm going to regret this?"

**TBC...**


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: **Hating what work's doing to me right now. I feel so sick and there's no end in sight.

Now seems like an ideal time to thank my beta, Miss Peg, for all the work she does for me.

x tromana

* * *

><p><strong>Part Eleven<strong>

The phone call had surprised Jane. He hadn't expected to see or hear from Teresa Lisbon until the next morning. After all, that was when she had confirmed, via Minelli, that he was more than welcome to start consulting for her team. Still, she had been insistent upon meeting up with him and not at the headquarters. Instead, she had given him the address of a quaint little café where they could share a coffee or two to discuss whatever it was that was troubling her so.

He genuinely hoped it wasn't second thoughts about working with him. Especially so given the fact that she was one of very few people who was in on his little secret, along with one of her juniors, Kimball Cho. In a way, he was desperate for approval from the woman. There was just something he found intriguing about her. She seemed to have a tendency to throw herself into work at the expense of everything else, which was a shame given the fact she was clearly an attractive woman. It was that which made Jane want to investigate further, to really get to know Teresa Lisbon. Not because he was ready to replace Angela as such – nothing could do that – and not because he was ready for another relationship. That kind of thing took time. However, Jane was always ready to get to know people, to work out what made them tick. When faced with a riddle inside an enigma, like Lisbon, how was he supposed to resist?

As he ordered the drink, tea, an earl gray for himself and a coffee, black with one sugar for her, he tried to brush away the apprehension. He had no reason to be so nervous; theoretically, this was no different to him having a meeting with a client for the third or fourth time. The only problem was, while there were things that were obvious about Teresa Lisbon at face value, such as the loss of her mom, he had a sneaking suspicion there was more to her than meets the eye. And anyway, this was him, trying desperately to piece together some semblance of a life without Angela. If Agent Lisbon wanted to meet with him, it was almost certainly either something to do with Angela's case or work and therefore, of equal importance to him. Jane had to take an interest in it, otherwise the temptation to wallow in self-pity could lead to something far, far worse.

Those kinds of thoughts had been lingering and he knew it. It was hardly surprising, given the fact he'd watched somebody he loved die a horrific death and he'd done nothing to stop it. The more he thought about it, the more he analyzed it, the more he considered the concept that not only did he watch her die, but it was partially his fault. He should have done more to ensure she hadn't been shot. Jane knew that he could have taken the bullet for her, pushed her aside or something like that anyway. Instead, he'd frozen to the spot and been paralyzed by fear, completely and utterly useless.

And now, he was facing a life without the love of his life.

It felt like he'd known Angela for all of his life. They'd grown up on the carnival circuit together and he'd watched her date the wrong men, the ones which weren't him. When she'd confessed that she needed to leave it, he'd agreed immediately. It was only after they'd taken the plunge that they'd realized that they were in some sort of relationship. They'd traveled the country, trying to find the best state to settle down in; it had taken them more than long enough to decide upon California. And now, they were over thirty and only just buying their first home together. Or they would have done, had she not been murdered anyway. They'd had a funny sort of upbringing, so it was only natural that they hadn't settled down normally.

When Jane heard somebody clear their voice, he looked up. Teresa Lisbon was standing opposite him, looking very agitated and distracted. Jane's heart sank a little; that didn't bode well. However, he was more than grateful for the reprieve from his thoughts, the traitorous concepts that were building up in his mind once more. Jane was all too aware of the power of human emotions and memory. It was, after all, what he'd built his trade on.

Now, he has to start again. Partially because he cannot deal with the guilt of letting Angela down now that she's dead, but mostly, for himself. After all, she'll never know if he changed his life around and became the person she wanted him to be. Mostly because she was dead and it was physically impossible for her to do so.

xxx

This was ridiculous. Every cell in Lisbon's body was desperately telling her to turn on her heels and run for the door. How could she have even considered this to be a good idea? Why the hell had she allowed Angela to talk her into meeting up with Jane to discuss… this? He had all but admitted to her that he was a fake psychic, that he had no belief in ghosts whatsoever. That the mere concept of Angela's spirit still being around (and bothering her, specifically) seemed completely absurd to him.

Not that he knew she was bothering her. Yet. For some reason, she had a shrinking feeling that it was only a matter of time before she let it slip.

Somehow, she would have to broach the subject. See how he reacted, if he'd believe her at all. Lisbon got the feeling that because he'd spent his life as a fraud, that Jane would automatically assume that she was lying too. That there was no afterlife, simply because he specifically had no contact with it whatsoever and the subject matter, as a result, was closed.

Stoically ignoring Angela, who was pestering her to get on with it, Lisbon smiled weakly at Jane and sat opposite him. Quietly, she thanked him for the coffee and took a sip. She was somewhat surprised when she realized that he had ordered it exactly how she liked it, but didn't comment. Instead, she found herself questioning whether or not he did have some psychic abilities, or if, at the very least, he could read minds.

"No, I can't read minds," he spoke lightly, precisely on cue.

She placed the coffee back down, laced her fingers and leaned forwards. The sooner this was over, the better.

"Right," she answered skeptically. "So how did you know I was thinking that then?"

Jane shook his head. "It doesn't matter."

"It does to me," Lisbon replied, frowning as she did. "If I have to work with you, I need to understand…"

"Meh, I can explain all that at a later date," he said with a wave of his hand. "You've got more important things on your mind."

"Stop reading my mind!"

"Body language," he corrected her, automatically.

"What?"

"It's your body language I'm reading, not your mind."

"Whatever. Stop doing it."

"It's not something you can exactly turn off or on, Agent Lisbon."

"Lisbon is fine."

"Lisbon, then," he said with a wry smile.

They fell briefly silent as Jane drank some of his tea and Lisbon stared aimlessly out of the window. Angela was still nagging away beside her, telling her to stop putting off the inevitable. Of course, Lisbon wanted to know whether or not Jane believed Danny had any connection with Red John, but she couldn't just launch into the conversation. It wasn't exactly a natural conversation opener. And besides, she had a sneaking suspicion that Jane would want to know how and why she had those thoughts anyway. What was she meant to say? Your dead fiancée has been haunting me from beyond the grave and won't leave me alone until I find out who killed her? Even if she were talking to somebody who believed in the supernatural, they would still manage to find her story preposterous.

"So…"

"So?" she echoed.

"What couldn't wait until tomorrow morning?"

"I probably don't even have to tell you…"

"It's about Angela, isn't it?"

"Yes."

Lisbon was more than aware that he knew Angela's case was no longer under her jurisdiction. Minelli hadn't just believed that the case fit the Organized Crimes Unit better, but he'd also transferred it to allow Jane to start working with her sooner. There had been no question about him having access to the case. He was too closely involved for that to simply be allowable. Instead, they had to cast it aside and work on other things. Lisbon hated feeling like she had failed at a case, but she had understood Minelli's desires. Her boss hoped that Jane would be a useful asset and he understood that the man needed something to focus on before the grief consumed him.

"Well?"

"I shouldn't be here, this is wrong…"

"Don't go."

Jane placed his hand over hers in order to stop her pulling away and somewhat to her surprise, Lisbon's heart skipped a beat. She frowned, but remained seated. That wasn't meant to happen. He was a man in mourning and from tomorrow, he was going to be her subordinate. It was inappropriate to the extreme. But somehow, the comforting tone of his voice and the lightness of his touch had made her feel something. Still, Lisbon pulled her hand away, as if a jolt of electricity had coursed through it. It might as well have done, she considered, as a warning for her to just stay the hell away. If she didn't, things would get messy all too quickly.

"Ask him about Danny, about Red John!" Angela hissed.

She was behind her. Lisbon glanced over her shoulder and as per usual, she saw nothing. Part of her wondered if she would find this whole situation a lot easier to handle if she'd been able to actually see Angela's spirit or something. Then, she wouldn't have felt like this was all in her head. It would have at least seemed more grounded in reality, rather than lifted from a fantasy book or the like.

"Angela's brother, Danny," she started tentatively and Jane nodded. "What was he like?"

Jane shrugged. "A little bit lost without his sister, gets mixed up with the wrong sorts. Thinks he's better than he actually is. Why?"

"Just wondering," she said, though she knew Jane didn't believe her. "And what do you know about Red John?"

As he gave her a brief recount of everything he was already aware of and already suspected, Lisbon listened attentively. There was nothing there that she hadn't known previously, but it was always interesting to hear somebody else's perspective on a case. That was especially the case with one as notorious as Red John. However, he hadn't given her any indication that he believed Angela's younger brother had been in contact with him.

"Ask him about Danny and Red John," Angela muttered again, though nobody else could hear her.

"Would Danny be the kind to get mixed up with Red John?" Lisbon eventually said, though she really hadn't to go there. If Jane had suspected anything about Danny and Red John, she was sure that he would have already mentioned it.

Jane pushed his teacup to one side to regard her. "Why would you think that?"

Wildly, Lisbon glanced away from him. Now she was getting out of her comfort zone. How was she meant to brush the question aside with a man who claimed to be able to read her mind based on how she reacted? It wasn't as if she could even consider telling him the truth.

"Anonymous tip off?" she suggested hopefully.

"Liar."

"A hunch?"

"Nope."

"Tell him the truth!" Angela hissed down her ear.

"Angela told me," she said, cringing as she did so.

xxx

Angela knew that Lisbon was angry. She was angry with her, for pushing her into the situation when she would have much preferred to approach it in her own way. Then, she had a simmering, righteous anger at the way Jane had treated her after the revelation. It was hardly surprising; all she'd done was tell the truth. The cop was trying to help, trying to get to the bottom of this mess and Jane had reacted as if she were treating him like a mark. In reality, she was doing anything but. Unlike Jane, her intentions had been true and he had been too, well, blinded to see it.

Then again, Angela wasn't surprised that Jane had reacted the way he'd done so. It had taken her years, but now she understood Jane inside out. He simply did not believe in the paranormal and instead, abused other people's acceptance of it in order to get what he wanted and needed out of them. That was their ability to stroke his ego and more importantly, their money. Having had the tables apparently turned on him by somebody who had clearly not spent the time to hone the craft must have been horrifying for him.

Nervously, she watched as he paced around their apartment, with his cell phone in hand. Silently she hoped that he wouldn't make the telephone call he was planning on doing. After all, this was all her fault. She had been the one to encourage Lisbon to meet up with Jane. Really, Angela knew that she should have been able to see this coming. Though she was good at dealing with people, Lisbon didn't have the same charisma as Jane to carry off what he'd done. She hadn't had the time to think over the questions that Jane was likely to ask or work out how to deal with him.

And Angela hadn't taken the time to forewarn her either.

Instead, she'd rushed the woman. Made her do things before she was ready to do them. If she had let Lisbon deal with it at her own pace, learn how to control Jane for herself, then maybe the meeting would have gone a little better. She could even have told her how to talk to Jane, what to say even. It wasn't as if anybody else could hear her anyway. Then again, Lisbon had been acting bewildered enough as it was and her talking any more than she'd done so would have probably made things worse. Though he'd liked her well enough during their first couple of meetings, it was obvious that he'd trusted her less so from the offset during this most recent one.

Angela sighed. This was a mess and she didn't know how she was going to fix it. Lisbon probably wouldn't want to speak to her and without her, she had no way of getting through to anybody else, least of all Jane.

Jane had stopped pacing and mumbling incoherently under his breath. Angela took the time to look at him and her heart broke when she saw the sadness in his eyes. When he started dialing a number into his cell phone, one she recognized as being Virgil Minelli's of the CBI's, her heart leapt to her throat. He wasn't about to cut Lisbon down in flames, was he? Jane wasn't really that cruel. Or at least, the Jane she loved hadn't been.

"Patrick," she called, trying desperately to make him listen. "Patrick, she wasn't lying. I'm here. Just talk to me, damn it. Face me. Please?"

She reached out to touch his cheek, but he remained ignorant to the face. Instead, he smiled briefly when he heard a reply on the other end of the phone.

"Hello, Virgil Minelli?" Jane said, sounding slightly breathless. "Patrick Jane. I'm sorry, but I don't think I'll be able to work with the CBI from tomorrow."

When he didn't expand upon his reasons why, not even bothering to make up an excuse such as finding another position, Angela let out a breath of relief. Lisbon was off the hook, for now. She could only hope now that Jane didn't change his mind and essentially attempt to get Lisbon cast out of her job. The woman didn't deserve that, not as she was doing all that was within her power to help. Even if it didn't always seem like she was doing so.

**TBC...**


	12. Chapter 12

**Part Twelve**

"I thought I told you never to come here again?" the CBI ghost seethed. "This is my turf."

"Yeah, well, I have nowhere else to go."

"She still ignoring you, then?"

"Yes."

"Told you s-"

"Oh, she can hear me alright," Angela interrupted him, with a wry grin. "She's just pissed off with me."

With a self-satisfied smirk, Angela flopped down on the worn leather couch. She knew that the idea of Lisbon actually hearing her had irritated her fellow, well, ghost. If everyone else was going to use that term to describe her current state, she felt as though she might as well join them. It was easier than trying to find a way to identify how she felt on her own at any rate. When the CBI ghost indicated that he wanted to sit too, Angela shifted aside slightly. At least he wasn't trying to chase her out of the building again. Most likely because he instantaneously believed her about the fact that she was in contact with the land of the living. That meant that he, too, had hope. He could use her to get some closure with his case as well.

Or rather, that was what Angela hoped was going on through his mind.

If it was what he was thinking, then she wasn't going to act as a medium for nothing. He had to give her something in return, something to help out with her dilemma. Angela knew that he had the ability to manipulate his environment, whereas everything she tried continued to fail disastrously. If she could actually move objects, go through doors and the like, like she had seen other ghosts do, and then maybe, just maybe, she'd be able to help Lisbon. And then, the cop might actually forgive her for making her look like a lunatic in front of Jane.

"What do you want this time?" the CBI ghost asked dubiously.

"You want closure for your case, don't you?"

He rolled his eyes. "Obviously."

"I can get you that."

"I thought you might say that. How are you going to do that, if your only living contact won't actually speak to you?"

"I have my ways."

"Like what?"

"I need your help with that," she stated lightly.

Angela smiled as the penny finally dropped. She didn't even need to tell him what she needed in exchange for talking to Lisbon about his dilemma. The CBI ghost put his paper bag down, the one he almost always seemed to be carrying around with him, as he considered her proposition. The ability to influence things when in a ghost-like state indicated a sense of power. It wasn't a skill he could pass around freely. Besides, he had no reason to trust that Angela would stick to her word. In theory, she could just take the lessons and run. After she'd done what she needed to do, she could refuse to help him and instead, leave him in the same state as he always has been.

However, he'd been like this for years. He'd actually told Angela that he had seen senior agents and their respective teams come and go, while he remained a part of the proverbial furniture. The concept of anything new ever being discovered on his case was increasingly becoming fantasy. After all, it had been deemed a cold case for years and they were rarely reopened without due cause. What did he really have to lose when it came to trusting Angela?

Besides, she had no intention of leaving him high and dry. She had known far too many people who would have done so, but she wasn't like them. Instead, Angela was proud of her moral backbone and had every intention of nudging Lisbon in the right direction (for him) as soon as the cop stopped pretending she didn't exist again. And she already knew first hand that Lisbon was the particularly stubborn sort. That she needed new tricks in her arsenal in order to make her pay attention.

"Fine," the CBI ghost eventually relented, after she'd fully explained. "But it isn't going to be easy. For you, I mean."

When it came to teaching, he actually had a surprising amount of patience. She half suspected that it was purely because of the potential light at the end of the tunnel, when it came to his case. It was, after all, the greatest gift that anyone could have offered him at that moment in time. Considering their difficult start, Angela found herself growing increasingly fond of the skinny man, even if he couldn't leave his paper bag alone for that long. Still, she tried to ignore it. After all, everyone was allowed their own unique quirk or two. Besides, he was actually helping her get what she wanted, however slowly and painfully that may be. It didn't take her too long to master sliding through closed doors, something she was pretty proud of. Moving objects, behaving as a poltergeist (was that what she was trying to become, she wondered), however, was providing more of a challenge.

"No, no, no," the CBI ghost groused when she failed to move a stack of papers for what felt like the thousandth time. "You've really got to focus. You've got to want to move, need to move it. It's all in your mind. You don't have a body to move things with any more, remember? You need to _focus_ instead."

xxx

Lisbon tutted when she heard a stack of files crash to the ground yet again. She had been in the kitchenette when it happened for the sixth time, preparing a coffee. As per usual, the offending files had been stacked on Rigsby's desk and now, he had taken to staring at the legs of the furniture in order to ascertain whether or not it was wonky. After all, every time he replaced them, he swore he had put them back on properly. And then, within ten minutes, they were sent crashing back down to the ground for no apparent reason. She smirked slightly when she heard him cussing, after Cho teased him for it. Lisbon didn't blame him; she would – did – find it frustrating, too.

After all, she had a sneaking suspicion what (or rather, who) was responsible for the disturbance.

The fact that she was now taking it in her stride unnerved her somewhat, she decided as she added the sugar to her coffee. It was one thing adjusting to hearing voices coming out of thin air and then another entirely coming to the conclusion that said voices were responsible for disturbances in the bullpen. Rigsby wasn't exactly the most careful of people on occasion (except where crime scenes were concerned, and then he was one of the best). It was entirely possible that it had simply been his carelessness that had resulted in the paperwork being repeatedly thrown to the floor. However, knowing that Angela was around, probably bored stiff and desperate for her attention had made her consider otherwise.

Still, she wasn't ready to forgive and forget. After all, Lisbon still didn't really know what the repercussions of her meeting with Jane yesterday morning were. For all she knew, he could have called Minelli and asked him to send her for a compulsory meeting with a shrink. Claiming that you could hear the voices of the dead when you had no prior experience of doing so certainly wasn't easy to accept. And on top of that, she had unsettled not just a relative (or near as damn it) of a victim, but a future employee too.

A future employee that hadn't turned up for work this morning.

As she'd expected, Lisbon had been hauled into Minelli's office that morning. Instead of questioning her sanity, however, he had proceeded to inform her that Jane had rejected their offer of a job. Then, he'd asked if she had any knowledge or indication as to why the man had changed his mind. Politely, she had shaken her head and declined comment. All the while, she had felt a sense of relief wash over her, one that she had feared wouldn't come for nearly eighteen hours. Minelli being oblivious as to the reason why Jane had walked out on them at the last minute was more than she could have asked for. However, it also didn't mean she was necessarily out of the woods. Jane could just as easily change his mind, pick up his cell phone and request to lodge a complaint with her superior about her. Then, things would change once more.

The worst part of it all to Lisbon was the fact it was out of her control. Patrick Jane, a man very obviously buried deep in grief, essentially held the key to her future career. He had told her what was either his darkest secret (that he wasn't actually a psychic) or lied (because he was in denial) because of what he was going through. All it would take was for him to come to his senses and realize that what she had done was inappropriate beyond belief.

If only she had bothered to say no to Angela Ruskin, then she wouldn't be in this mess. Just because she had finally accepted that she wasn't actually going crazy, that this was really happening, it didn't mean that she had to cave so easily. Normally, Lisbon had no problems in saying no, in standing up to people. However, those people didn't tend to tail her for eighty-five percent of the time, constantly nagging her to do their bidding. And also, having seen Angela's body, having been one of the first officers at the crime scene had made her feel sorry, in a way, for the woman. Like Lisbon, all she wanted was some answers. And without answers, it seemed like Angela wasn't going anywhere.

With a dejected sigh, Lisbon headed back to her office, but not without reminding Rigsby to cut down on the more colorful language. It was only a few files; it wasn't worth him getting irate about it. As she sat down behind her desk, she fingered at the Red John case file, contemplating. It wasn't that she didn't believe Angela's insistence that her brother was involved with the serial killer; it was the fact that it was just hearsay. She didn't even have any solid reason to suspect Danny Ruskin's involvement in Angela's death at all, or at least nothing she could hand over to Minelli or an ADA in attempt to get a search warrant.

This was the kind of case that Minelli had wanted Jane to use his expertise on. And Lisbon had successfully alienated him in less than half an hour. She stared at her phone. Maybe, just maybe, the situation was salvageable?

She wouldn't know unless she tried to ask Jane again.

xxx

"You all set for tomorrow?"

Jane nodded and Danny smiled wryly. They both knew it was going to be a tough day. It had taken them long enough, what with the complications with the CBI, but the funeral was going to go ahead in less than twenty four hours. Neither of them liked the concept of burying Angela, especially at such a painfully young age, but it was something that needed to be done. Despite the fact that Jane had never particularly gotten on with Angela's younger sibling while she had been alive, he had discovered some sort of comradeship with him of late. That was mostly because, though he didn't necessarily show it, he had appreciated the hand in organizing the funeral. It was one of the few things that had stopped him from driving himself mad because of it.

The question was where he went with it next.

He had had the opportunity to work with the CBI, but had chosen to throw that away. Something, which when he learned about it, Danny would probably hold against him. After all, Danny still regarded the position as being his until Jane had cruelly usurped him from it. Then again, he had been well within his rights to do that. The way Teresa Lisbon had acted was almost beyond redemption, as far as he was concerned. If he had been feeling a little more forgiving, then maybe he would have written it off as her being overstressed and underpaid, but she had known it was two days before the funeral. She knew that he wasn't a psychic and that they didn't exist. He had trusted her and she had abused it. There wasn't any way he could even consider working with somebody like that at this moment in time.

Jane took a bite of his sandwich, though he didn't feel much like eating. Danny, meanwhile, hadn't touched his food at all. Instead, he kept touching his jacket pocket or digging his cell phone out of it, checking for messages. Though it had been Danny's idea to meet up, the man seemed distracted, out of sorts. And Jane had a shrinking feeling that it wasn't just because of the impending funeral.

One thing Lisbon had mentioned was the concept of Danny being mixed up with the wrong crowds and more specifically, the serial killer Red John. For some reason, seeing Danny so agitated and distracted, the thought lingered. Jane knew that it shouldn't, it should have been one of those ideas he'd released as nonsensical, but for some reason it had stuck.

"If you're expecting a phone call…" Jane said lightly.

"No, no," Danny replied before slipping the phone back in his pocket once more. "It's just…"

"Yes?"

"Nothing," he said, albeit too quickly. "It doesn't matter."

They both knew that he was being deliberately evasive. Neither of them had gotten to the top of their game without learning the same tricks as one another. That was half of the problem; this was a battle of wits, one that Jane was determined to win. One that he _should_ win if Danny was being distracted by the wrong sorts, especially if it was a serial killer. Danny glared at Jane as he took a sip of his lemonade.

"Why aren't you with the CBI?" Danny asked, changing the conversation before Jane said something about his mind being elsewhere. "I thought you said you started today."

"Meh, changed my mind."

"Liar."

"Says you," Jane retorted.

"So, really, why didn't you go?"

With a sigh, Jane pushed his plate away. How much harm would it do to tell Danny the truth? If he had become a pawn for a serial killer and was willing to have his own flesh and blood murdered, then how long would it be until Jane himself was on the list? They had such little regard for one another, and Red John could easily have known that Jane was about to start working on the case.

That could even have been the trigger, the motive for her murder. A way to test Danny's loyalty along with striking Jane where it hurt by taking away the woman he loved.

"The cop, Teresa Lisbon, she did a reading of me," he said tentatively, actively cutting out important details. "Said Angela was present. Mentioned things that only I know about her. Or at least, thought that only I know."

Danny almost choked on his sandwich and looked several shades paler than he had two minutes previously. "No, really?"

"She was good," he added. He had to give credit where it was due.

"Where the hell would she get the time to learn how to do that?"

Jane shrugged. That had been one of his first questions after he'd stormed out on Lisbon. She was a cop – a senior one, at that – and his skills required years of honing and patience. Lisbon simply wouldn't have had the time to invest in her career as well as reading people the way that he did. Besides, in the first couple of meetings she didn't seem like she was hardwired in that way. Too logical, by the book. Didn't immediately go looking for the missing link and instead, searched for it in a methodical manner. Or, as Jane saw it, the slow and tedious way.

"What should I do now?"

"If I were you, I'd report her."

**TBC...**


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N: **Thanks to Galxychld and Ebony10 for reviewing part twelve.

In other exciting news: chapter one of my original novel is nearly completed.

x tromana

* * *

><p><strong>Part Thirteen<strong>

She laid down on the sidewalk and stared at the tin can critically. Two days ago, the CBI ghost had given Angela intensive lessons on how to move objects in her new-found state, between existences and still, the ability to do so was irritatingly eluding her. He had claimed that there was little more that he could do; he had explained it the best he could. All that was left for her to do was practice. Starting small was apparently the best idea and what was better than an empty coke can that had been left discarded, instead of being placed in a trash can?

Pointing out her index finger, Angela tried to nudge it forwards. Instead, her finger slipped through the metal, as if it were nothing but thin air. Grumbling under her breath, she tried again and again, to no avail. This was getting ridiculous. She'd watched the CBI ghost do it time and time again, acting as if it was as easy as breathing and yet, she seemed to find it physically impossible. Worse still was the fact that she hadn't even had to think about actions like this just a short while ago. Nudging a can, picking it up, kicking it or whatever, had been just second nature. Why did it have to be so different now? The CBI ghost had said something about not having a body meaning you were relying on thoughts alone to move things, but that sounded like rubbish to her. Still, she decided she'd have to keep persevering.

Besides, Lisbon was still stoically ignoring her. It was worse than when she had only semi-heard her, because then it wasn't merely Lisbon's stubbornness and wits against her. Then, the woman had been genuinely unnerved and worried for her own sanity. Now, all she seemed to want was for Angela to leave her the hell alone until she realized that Jane wouldn't wreck her whole career. It may have appeared like she was having some kind of breakdown to him, but the Jane she fell in love with would have probably believed she was trying to scam him in some way and then try and unearth the truth. Then, he might have a chance of realizing his belief system was wrong, despite the fact he was thoroughly convinced otherwise, like she had once been.

However, she also knew it was going to take a lot of time and proof for Jane to reassess everything. But if he did, then she'd have a hope of contacting him, telling him to stop dwelling on the past, move on and get the hell out of the psychic business. Knowing that it could really happen (albeit on rare occasions) would hopefully convince him that his conman act would eventually be revealed to the world. It was better that he left it, on his own terms, than face that kind of humiliation. And anyway, she also had a feeling that he'd work well with Agent Lisbon. She seemed to need someone to ruffle her feathers, to make her loosen up a bit. When she wasn't busy ignoring Angela, she was worrying about something or other. Jane could easily help her de-stress (or, more likely, add to it), once in a while.

Once more, she tried to flick the can, hoping that the brief distraction in the form of her own thoughts would help her to clear her mind. Once again, she failed dismally. Banging her head against the concrete floor a couple of times, Angela swore in frustration. Why couldn't she manage whatever trick it was that the CBI ghost had? Was she over thinking? Under thinking? Or was it just that generally, she didn't really care what location the can was, and that she was only trying to move that object because it was small and relatively insignificant?

"Ouch, look where you're going," she snapped as somebody stood on her leg.

Of course, they didn't notice her; nobody ever did. Instead, the man just carried on on his merry way. Angela stood up and started tailing him, almost forgetting that he couldn't actually hear her. She still wanted to give him a piece of her mind. She didn't even notice the fact that she had casually knocked over the tin can as she did so, such was her hurry to close the gap between herself and him.

He turned a corner and Angela found herself running in order to keep up. Normally, this was an activity that led to her heaving and gasping for breath, but for once it came easily. That was the first perk she had discovered about the afterlife, having previously believed that purgatory (or whatever the hell she was stuck in) had none whatsoever. As a result, she pushed herself harder and when he stopped to buy a taco, she finally managed to glimpse his face.

If her heart could have stopped again, it would have.

This was the man that killed her.

xxx

He faltered slightly before entering the CBI building.

Jane still wasn't one hundred percent sure that he was going to follow Danny's advice. There was something that meant he still didn't trust the man entirely. After all, why would he break the habit of a lifetime? There was also something about Teresa Lisbon that made him wonder what if she had been telling the truth? What if she hadn't been lying, just to pull at his heartstrings? Or to try and figure out if he'd had a (literal) hand in Angela's death. There was something inexplicably honest about the woman. It might have been because she was a cop, but for some reason Jane believed it was more ingrained than that. Lisbon was just a good, honest soul and there were so few of them around these days.

However, that didn't mean Angela still existed in some sense or form. It could quite as easily have meant that Lisbon genuinely believed she was telling the truth, but the stress of the job was getting to her. It was sending her off the rails and she required medical intervention as soon as possible. Or, it was just his wishful thinking. Angela's death was the first time he'd had a brush with death since he was very small. Jane couldn't even remember his mom, never mind have any feelings for her passing. But Angela? She had meant the world to him.

And it meant that he was beginning to feel increasingly guilty about the treatment of his clientele. These feelings were the ones he played on in order to get a living. He knew about them and abused them, but he'd never truly understood them. How could he have done so without having truly experienced it for himself? And now that he had, he almost loathed himself for doing it in the first place. It was little wonder that Angela had been so desperate for him to quit the psychic business and move into a more morally acceptable type of career.

He meandered his way through security and then, directly upstairs to the third floor. There, he dithered slightly once more. If he turned to the right, he would have headed to Minelli's office. Then, he would be able to tell the supervising agent his fears for Lisbon. Instead, he turned left and went towards Lisbon's own office. Jane didn't know whether or not she would actually be there; her team could easily have been called out on a case or the like. Still, he preferred the idea of facing her once more and trying to work out what the hell was going on.

The first person he bumped into was a tall, willowy red head. Grace Van Pelt looked stunned, and then thrilled to meet him. She shook his hand enthusiastically before chatting about just how impressive she found him as a psychic. Though he smiled and thanked her politely, her enthusiasm made him squirm a little. He didn't deserve love or admiration for what he'd done. In the scheme of things, she was the one who was the hero, doing good in the world. She was the one who got answers for the victims and their families instead of feeding them the false hope that he peddled on. Still, once she had finished, she did inform him that Lisbon was indeed in her office and would be free to meet him within five minutes.

When Lisbon invited him inside her office, she looked as surprised as Van Pelt to see him, though for very different reasons. She indicated to the chair opposite her and he sat before she did so too. She looked very nervous and shy compared to the previous times he'd seen her. Jane smiled when she tucked a stray hair back behind her ear and straightened her files. Yes, she was definitely on edge and probably justifiably so. She probably thought he was about to drop a proverbial bombshell on her.

In truth, even he didn't know why he was there.

All he knew was that there was definitely a piece missing to the puzzle.

She apologized profusely for her behavior beforehand, though it was blindingly obvious she didn't entirely mean it. Yes, she was sad to have upset him, but she wasn't sorry for saying that his dead fiancée was still around somehow.

He was almost relieved when she swiftly changed the subject. Or at least, altered it slightly into the direction of her case. Jane frowned when she did so. She had been the one to inform him that the case was no longer under her control, that because it was believed to be a mugging gone wrong that it had been moved to Organized Crimes. However, it was only a matter of minutes before she slid a manila file in his direction.

"Open it," she whispered.

Nodding, he did so. First, he slid a finger tentatively under the cover. Should he really be doing this? He wasn't an employee and this data was probably confidential. Equally, he was a person of interest and could just as easily justify this as being assisting with the enquiries. When he finally opened it up, there was a mug shot of a man staring back at him. Jane frowned a little and naturally, Lisbon picked up on that.

"This is the man I believe killed your fiancée," she explained quietly. "Does he look familiar at all?"

Jane glanced up at her and she was looking at him searchingly, desperate for an affirmative. Instead of answering he studied the picture a little longer. He hadn't seen the man entirely, but there was something familiar about his eyes and the facial structure. According to the other details provided on the next sheet, he was approximately the same build and weight as the man who'd attacked them too.

"I think so. Does Organized Crimes know?"

"No," she admitted. "This is information I got from…"

"Don't say it."

"Fine, but I can't investigate because either way, my hands are tied and I have no evidence to do further research."

"So you want me to help?" he asked.

"Yes. Please."

"I'm not sure I can entirely believe your story, Agent Lisbon," Jane said politely. "But I'm willing to play along, for now."

"Should I tell Virgil Minelli that you've changed your mind once more and are going to be working for the CBI after all?" she asked, sounding altogether too hopeful.

"No," he answered and her face fell a little. "We'll just see how this goes first."

xxx

The man remained oblivious of her presence, just as Angela suspected he would. She was getting used to being ignored by the majority of people, even if it did still irritate her on occasion. This one, naturally, annoyed her more than most, considering what this man had done to her and her life. If he'd just been any old man on the street, then it wouldn't matter. But having literally taken away her life? That was different. It completely and utterly changed things.

"Hey, you!" she said, calling after him, though she knew it wouldn't work. "Hey!"

Instead, he continued on down the street, carrying his taco in his left hand. The bastard remained completely unaware. Worse still, he appeared to show no remorse whatsoever for what he'd done. In fact, he seemed positively cheerful as he whistled while he walked. He grinned brightly when he sat down on a bench, relieved to finally stop and eat his food.

Angela poked him roughly in the back. It was a stupid, pointless little action, but it made her feel better anyway.

When he jumped, dropped his taco and looked wildly over his left shoulder, Angela jumped too.

He was the first person to actually respond to her touch since the incident. Even Teresa Lisbon couldn't manage that, despite the fact she was more than capable of holding a conversation with her. When he'd calmed down and started cleaning the mess off of his pants, Angela took a step forward and did it again. Once more, he started looking for the perpetrator, frowning when he realized that nothing was close enough to poke him in the back.

Grumbling incoherently, the man, her murderer stood up. Angela rushed around the bench and stuck an innocent leg out in front of him. Naturally, the man couldn't see and ended up tripping over it. A kid across the road laughed while his mom watched warily.

"Who's there?" he called, "what's happening?"

"Hello."

He didn't respond, clearly he didn't hear her. Instead, she stamped angrily on his hand and he let out a string of abuse as the pain shot through his fingers. Only vaguely did Angela notice the woman ushering her son away, talking about how the man must have been a nasty drunk who was hallucinating. Well, if she was going to be a hallucination, she might as well make it good, she decided. In reality, Angela knew that this was petty revenge, but still. Considering what he'd done and just how ineffective the cops appeared to be, she couldn't just let the man walk by and live his life unaffected by what he'd done.

Besides, the smug grin had really gotten to her. It was as if her life had meant nothing to him in the grand scheme of things.

"Murderer!" she hissed down his ear after he'd scrambled up to his feet.

"What did you say?" he said, blinking and wringing his sore hands together.

"Murderer, murderer!" she repeated, as if it were her mantra.

"I ain't no murderer, I didn't do nothing!"

"You are. I was there. You killed me!"

"But…"

He trailed off, dropped the bag he'd been carrying and bolted. Angela made chase, instinctively picking up objects to throw at him and slow him down. Occasionally she managed to hit him and eventually, the exhaustion of running, being pelted with trash and a stitch meant that the man had to stop, lean over and catch his breath.

This was when Angela took her opportunity. She poked and prodded him, shoved him around. Dumped a nearly full trash can over his head. Doused him with a bottle of some unidentifiable substance. Watched as he wriggled and squirmed and cried out under the torment. But she didn't care, how could she? What he'd done to her was worse. He'd attacked herself and Jane, for no apparent reason and then shot her at close range. This excuse of a man hadn't even stayed to see whether or not she'd lived or died. He'd just ran from the crime scene, fled for safety. And now, because of the petty excuses, it was looking more and more likely that he'd literally get away with murder.

"Leave me alone!"

"Never."

"Please?" he begged, "show a little mercy."

"What, like you showed me?" she said, laughing hollowly. "Why did you do it?"

"I'm sorry, okay?" he whispered, looking genuinely terrified. "But I had to do it; if I didn't then Red John would have…"

"Red John would have what?"

"Hunted me down, killed me."

"Why?"

"Because he knew I'd sold the drugs to Danny Ruskin."

It was then that she completely lost it. Not only had this bastard killed her, but he was the reason behind her brother's relatively recent change in demeanor. The reason Danny had completely fallen off of the straight and narrow, to the extent that even she couldn't rescue him. Without thinking, Angela used as much strength as she had in her to push him into the road, straight into an oncoming lorry.

She watched with horror as the vehicle crushed him. The driver stopped, looking ashen white and immediately dialed 911. Turning to the left, Angela saw a figure standing beside her. It was her murderer, whole, unchanged. He was staring at the wreck of his figure that was literally underneath the wheel of a lorry.

"But…"

There was the sound of scurrying; it sounded similar to rats, but it wasn't quite that. Angela glanced to her feet to see black shadows growing around the man beside her, engulfing his soul, his spirit, or whatever it was he'd become. She took several steps back, scared that this thing, whatever it was, was doomed to become her fate all, he'd taken her life and in return, she'd taken his.

"No!" he yelled.

Angela watched, horrified and awed as he was pulled downwards. The man resisted all the way, scrabbling desperately to keep a hold on the ground around him. Once he disappeared underneath, completely obscured from view, there was a faint pop.

It was over.

Around her, there was literal insanity as the living attempted to piece together what the hell had just happened to the man. Nervously she approached what was left of the body and nudged it with her foot.

He was dead. She'd killed him. And she hadn't even had to think about manipulating her environment in order to do so.

**TBC...**


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N: **Thanks to Ebony10 for reviewing part thirteen.

x tromana

* * *

><p><strong>Part Fourteen<strong>

The phone rang.

Jane frowned slightly, but Lisbon held up her hand to silence him. She had to answer this; the display indicated that it was coming straight from the deputy AG. That generally meant bad news. Or rather, it meant that she had more work to do. Still, she couldn't complain about the influx of cases. A few weeks ago, before the idea of having Jane on her team (and before Angela had started bothering her), she'd been bored. She'd merely had Van Pelt to train up, but not much work to do it with. Besides, this was why she had become a cop in the first place. It was why she'd joined the CBI. Lisbon wanted the tough, difficult cases. She wanted to prove that she was more than capable of doing just as good a job (or if not, better) as the men around her. So really, she couldn't complain. Besides, in the past couple of days, while she had been ignoring Angela and hoping that Jane would return her call, her team had managed to close some of their outstanding cases. And that was always a good feeling for her.

She spoke quickly and concisely as possible, trying to ensure that she didn't let anything confidential slip to Jane. As she scribbled down a few brief notes in her pocket notebook, she could almost feel Jane's eyes boring into her. Lisbon shuddered slightly; she hated the way he constantly attempted to read people and briefly, she wondered how the hell Angela had managed to live with it for so long. Then again, the research she'd done into Angela had indicated that the woman had been brought up on the carnival circuit as well. Therefore, she was simply one of the crowd and probably immune from having him constantly trying to make money out of her. Whereas Lisbon, she was on the outside, a potential revenue for cash. Or at least, she would have been, had she not been so skeptical. For the most part, her cynicism prevented her from being eyed up as a potential mark.

"Well, what do we have?" Jane asked once she'd said goodbye and snapped her notebook firmly shut.

"_We_ don't have anything," Lisbon said firmly, keen to make out that he wasn't involved. "My team and I, however, have a new case."

"And when do you expect us to work out this whole Danny dilemma?"

"I don't know, Mr. Jane," she replied, exasperated. "Not now. I have a crime scene to pick through."

"But…"

"I'll call you. Go home, Jane."

"Just surnames now?"

"Why not?" Lisbon answered with a shrug. "You seem to be trying to squirrel your way into my team anyway, despite saying you want to play no part in it."

"So…"

"I'll call you."

Jane looked disbelieving as she left to pull together her team, but Lisbon didn't care. Right now she did have other priorities and this case had nothing to do with him. If she had to be elsewhere, it wasn't as if she could help – or control – it. It was simply the nature of her job. Besides, even though he didn't appear to realize it, it wasn't uncommon for units to be running multiple cases concurrently. Their line of work was chronically understaffed; if they didn't, so many cases would go uninvestigated entirely.

It didn't take them long to get to the crime scene. In a way, Lisbon found it a relief that it had happened in Sacramento. It meant that more of the evidence would be preserved by the time she arrived. It also meant that, relatively speaking, it wouldn't be too long until she was back at the office and able to focus on all of her open cases. Then again, it was also fairly bad for the city. There had been a spate of murders locally of late, including Angela's, and that set the general public on edge. Especially so when the people responsible weren't being apprehended and put behind bars. Besides, it also made them look bad, it made it appear that they didn't have the situation under control. If somebody was responsible for one murder, then it was entirely plausible that they had turned into a serial killer.

On the plus side, from what she knew, this one certainly didn't have the same MO as any of the others. And despite the fact he had apparently hung around, they had a prime suspect in the form of the lorry driver.

When she actually arrived on scene and saw the body, her heart sank considerably. Instead of thinking that they might have caught an easy one (something that she should have known by now to never do), she decided that this had just complicated things further.

It was the same man she had shown Patrick Jane a photograph of less than an hour previously.

It was the man that had apparently killed Angela Ruskin, if Angela herself was to be believed.

xxx

"I was waiting for you to turn up."

"Oh, not _you_," Lisbon moaned and promptly started stalking back to her team.

"How charming," Angela sniffed. "I might have something useful to say, you know."

"Wait, did you have something to do with this?"

"Yes, I did. I did it."

"Great," Lisbon said sarcastically. "Case closed. Quickest confession ever. Let me get my handcuffs out. Now, how the hell do I charge a ghost for murder?"

Angela smirked, not that Lisbon could see her. It was a pretty funny scenario, when you thought about it like that. Even if it was a harsh reminder of the cruel reality that faced her. What had happened didn't change the fact she was dead. It did make her feel better, but only ever so slightly. If anything, she felt a slight twinge of guilt. Jane was suffering badly from her loss and she didn't even know if this poor soul who'd killed her had any family of his own to mourn for him. She'd just snapped and something had happened. And then, as the growing realization of what she had done had hit her, all she could do was wait and hope that somebody who was growing increasingly familiar was put in charge of this case.

She'd felt incredibly relieved when Lisbon and her team had, indeed, been the ones to turn up.

However, it had also taken a while to corner Lisbon on her own, waiting for her to go collect some evidence bags from the trunk of the van. Still, it was nice that she was finally willing to talk to her, to some extent at any rate. Better than having a complete wall of silence, anyway. It was one thing talking to other ghosts, but even that got lonely from time to time. They always seemed to have their own personal demons and scores to settle. Hardly ever did they have any time for other people. Then again, she wasn't really one to judge. Right now, all she was worried about was getting closure from her own case. Angela had thought that the death of the man that had shot her would do that.

She'd been wrong, clearly.

It was probably the complication of her brother being involved. And potentially the infamous serial killer, Red John. Why did it have to be so difficult? Was she doomed to become as bitter and twisted as the CBI ghost, simply because Red John was still out there?

Or was she just looking for answers as to why Danny had to have her killed? Would that be enough to free her from this confusing state?

She was beginning to come to terms that there was no way back to the land of the living. Out of morbid curiosity, Angela had been present at her funeral. Had watched as the coffin had been burned to a crisp at the crematorium. She had tried to stop it, had shouted and screamed until her voice went hoarse, but naturally, nobody had listened. She hadn't even been able to stop the coffin from plunging into the burning flames.

There was no way back for her. The only options were wherever the hell her killer had gone or…

Well. She'd been as disbelieving of hell as she had of heaven. Briefly, she wondered how on earth she could have been so naïve to deny the possibility of either (or both) of them existing.

But that was beside the point right now.

Right now, Teresa Lisbon had a dilemma and she was clearly very angry.

"You have witnesses saying that he was clearly acting insane?" she suggested.

"Oh yes, and what if his doctor says he has no history of mental illness?"

"People can snap."

"And don't I know it," Lisbon muttered under her breath.

"Why can't you just make it out to be a tragic accident?"

"You don't get it, do you?" Lisbon snapped. "What you did, it isn't helpful. It was petty revenge, murder. Now I have to find a way to prove that it wasn't murder, despite the fact it was, because my murderer is already dead and was at the time it was committed!"

"I'm sorry, but if you were-"

"I don't care. Just… just get the hell away from me, for now. I need time to think."

Angela took a step back and allowed Lisbon to get back to her team. She was right; she did need to do some thinking, as well as do her job. All Angela was doing was getting in the way of things. And making things all the more complicated for her. If only she could actually see her, then maybe she would have stopped fearing for her own sanity by now.

xxx

"You believe this is the man that killed Angela Ruskin?" Minelli hissed.

She wasn't sure where he'd gotten that knowledge from, but there was no point in denying it. Lisbon nodded. It was short, sharp and determined. Of course she knew this was the man who'd been responsible for Angela's death, but she couldn't exactly tell her boss how and why. If she even dared to, then he would immediately sign her off for mandatory vacation, stating that the stress of the job was getting to her. And that was only if she was lucky. If she were unlucky, it would end up involving shrinks and if possible, being shut up in some psychiatric hospital for a short stint. And that would mean the end of her career.

"Why?"

Lisbon had immediately expected that question, too. Still as she had driven back to the CBI headquarters, she had mentally prepared herself for it. She'd had to; with Patrick Jane in the building when she'd left, she'd been suspicious of him to phrase it politely. There was still something about him that meant she didn't want to trust him. Undermining her by telling Minelli she suspected her latest victim was the man to kill his fiancée was just the kind of attitude she expected of him. Instead of just revealing what she'd done to his boss, he could have decided to set up a trap where she told him herself and therefore, implicated herself. It was so much more devious that way.

But how the hell could Jane have even known that Angela's murderer would die at that specific time? He'd been with her, in her office at the time of death. If that wasn't a cast-iron alibi, then she didn't know what was. Unless, of course, he was involved in some other underhanded way, but for some reason, she didn't think he'd resort to that. If there'd been more time between her telling him her suspicions and the death, then maybe it would have been plausible. Besides, it was entirely possible that Minelli had just looked through the paperwork on her desk while leaving some more for her to do. Files which he didn't recognize were always suspicious to her supervisor and justifiably so.

"We had an anonymous tip off, sir," she said quietly.

"Through what source?" he persisted.

"Face to face," Lisbon lied, hoping that he'd believe her.

"Then it isn't anonymous."

"They requested that they remain as such," she said honestly.

It was only a white lie. Angela couldn't exactly remain much more anonymous than by being a ghost, could she? It wasn't as if she could walk into the CBI headquarters and inform Minelli that this was the man who killed her.

"And were you going to inform Organized Crimes?"

She remained silent.

"Agent Lisbon?"

"Eventually."

"Why were you going to sit on it? Did you believe that you'd be able to solve the case, despite the fact it is no longer under your jurisdiction?"

Lisbon glanced at her hands. When it came to that she, she felt torn enough as it was. And when she'd been essentially forced to give it up, she had felt like she'd let Angela down. After Angela had told her the information about her apparent killer, she was unable to investigate because the case was no longer hers.

"I should reprimand you for that."

She looked up at him again, silent. Lisbon hadn't needed him to tell her that; in fact, from the moment he'd brought it up, she had expected him to start those proceedings. It was foul play, undermining another team. They were all things that were frowned upon within the CBI. It stopped the bureau from working harmoniously together.

"But I know you. When a case gets under your skin, you can't let go. Just… don't do it again, okay? You need to learn to let go," Minelli said with a sigh. "You're dismissed, Agent."

As she left the room, she let out a shaky sigh of relief. That had been altogether far too close for comfort. Though she liked Minelli and had an awful lot of respect for him, that didn't mean she wasn't aware that he was her boss. He had more control over her career than even she cared to admit. Just because they had an amicable relationship, it certainly didn't mean they were friends. It just meant that they had a good working relationship and knew how to make sure that things got done appropriately. However, if he discovered she was hearing voices in her head, all that could change in an instant. It wouldn't have mattered what the source was, whether it was Jane, herself or in some other way. That would result in her losing her job, one way or another.

And she was going to be on edge about it until Angela's case was dead and buried, she suspected.

When she reached her office, the first thing she did was open the top drawer of her desk and dig out some painkillers. She didn't even bother fetching some water and instead, swallowed them dry, such was her desperation to take them. Tension headaches were a killer and at this moment in time, Lisbon was feeling particularly stressed.

If Angela wasn't a sign of her imminent breakdown, then this case was looking likely to be the straw that broke the camel's back. Between Angela and Jane, it seemed like they were determined to cause her a premature coronary. Either that, or this case was going to. A dead murder victim who was now also a murderer post-death, a fake psychic who was determined to bring her down from the inside and apparently, Red John just happened to be involved.

This was just what she needed right now. It was going to be a very, very long week.

Unless, of course, the case took longer to close than that.

**TBC...**


	15. Chapter 15

**A/N: **Getting towards the end of this one. There's nineteen chapters total, plus an epilogue.

Thanks to: lolly222, Ebony10 and Galxychld for reviewing part fourteen.

x tromana

* * *

><p><strong>Part Fifteen<strong>

"Thank you for coming," Lisbon said and she shook Jane's hand firmly.

Van Pelt watched warily; the boss hadn't said she should disappear. Then again, she hadn't said anything to her at all since Jane had turned up in her office. They had been in the middle of what felt like the thousandth induction (in reality, it had only been the third) when Jane turned up. And it had been a matter of minutes and Lisbon already seemed oblivious to her younger agent's presence.

Before her meeting, she had chatted for a while with Rigsby and Cho. According to them, this behavior was out of the ordinary for the normally incredibly focused and unflappable boss of the Serious Crimes Unit. Both of them were a little concerned and thought she was pushing herself too hard. That she should have said no to some of the cases they'd been offered of late. They were beginning to build up far too quickly and she was spreading herself (and them, as a consequence) way too thin. If she didn't do something about it, she was going to make herself ill. Of course, when Van Pelt had queried whether or not either of them had dared say anything to Lisbon herself, they'd both laughed at the concept. Teresa Lisbon was a fiercely private individual and questioning any of her seemingly unwise decisions would be akin to questioning her about her personal life. Something which Van Pelt herself had quickly learned was a no go zone, after a recent case involving an alcoholic father.

Still, Van Pelt didn't leave. Not because she didn't respect her boss' privacy, but because she actually liked Jane. Like her cousin, Yolanda, he was a practicing psychic. He helped people get closure where they, as cops, failed to do so. It was an admirable calling and she couldn't help but be ever so slightly awed by it. Besides, as far as she knew, Jane was still meant to be formally joining their team as a consultant. She'd have to get to know him and his techniques sooner or later. And if he was about to do his stuff to help them on one of their current cases, when was a better time to learn than now?

Anyway, if Lisbon really didn't want her there, she would have remembered to have sent her back out to the bullpen. Wouldn't she?

Instead of Jane communing with the spirits, as Van Pelt had expected, Lisbon pushed a case file in his direction. Wordlessly, he opened it. Craning to see just which file it was, Van Pelt was surprised to see that it was to do with their latest case, the one where a man had been virtually crushed to death by a truck yesterday. They'd only just told the family of his death and not even managed to record all the witnesses' statements yet. Telephone calls with information were still trickling in and keeping them glued to the phones. So why was Lisbon showing him the files?

Was she going to ask him to see if the man had passed over? If he had any notion of who it was who'd killed him and more importantly, why. And if she was expecting him to hold a séance, then didn't they generally work better with more people? People who actually had a connection to the deceased, rather than the cops investigating his or her death? That was what Yolanda had always told her, whenever she'd enquired (without breaking confidentiality, of course) about a particularly tricky case when she'd still been back home in Iowa. Whatever it was, she almost couldn't contain her excitement. She was in her dream job _and_ she was going to get a private display of what Patrick Jane did to boot.

"That was the man who killed your fiancée?" Lisbon asked.

"Aren't you meant to be the one to prove that?" Jane retorted, smiling slightly. "Have you got any solid evidence yet?"

"We're getting a search warrant, thanks to his death. There may be something in his apartment."

"Keep me updated?"

"Of course," Lisbon said with a sharp nod.

Literally stunned by the turn of events, Van Pelt whisked out of the office as quietly as possible. Thankfully, Jane and Lisbon seemed so fixated on one another that neither seemed to notice that she had been present, nor that she had swiftly left. It seemed like Lisbon had broken every rule in the book. If they'd already found the evidence in their victim's apartment, then maybe things would be different. Or if Jane had discovered the fact after asking the man's ghostly spirit, then she wouldn't have a concern.

But Lisbon had just told him that she thought he was responsible. With no evidence whatsoever. Just based on some strange hunch she seemed to have. It was weird. This wasn't the Lisbon she'd been introduced to when she'd first joined the team. Although she hadn't had a chance to really get to know her boss, Van Pelt was still more than a little annoyed. Still, if the guys were right and it was the stress of work getting to her, then maybe it was explainable.

However, she knew that theoretically, she should do something. Reporting her to Minelli felt altogether too subversive. Quietly, she questioned whether or not she should bring it up with Lisbon herself. Surely she shouldn't have been revealing so much confidential information to Jane? He hadn't officially started with them yet, so therefore there was no need. Mostly, she just didn't want to rock the boat; she was still a painfully new addition to the team.

Besides, it could just as easily have a simple explanation. Jane could have found out through the spirits that the man was responsible prior to his death. That was most likely what their meeting was about yesterday. And all Lisbon was looking for was a confirmation from the photographs of the crime scene.

Yes, she decided. That must be it. There was nothing wrong. Teresa Lisbon just wasn't that kind of cop.

xxx

Lisbon was more than a little annoyed when she realized that Angela was following her to the victim's home. She had been the one to kill him and now, she was more than willing to come and have a poke around his property. It seemed wrong, an invasion too far. At least she had admitted to feeling a small shred of guilt, though naturally, that didn't make everything better. She had actively cut a man's life cruelly short and considering her current state of affairs, Lisbon wasn't entirely sure that was the wisest thing she could have done. The woman was in purgatory, being judged by God and yet, she had willfully broken one of the Ten Commandments.

How she could do something like that in her situation was completely beyond Lisbon.

Then again, Lisbon knew it was slightly hypocritical of her to be so judgmental. After all, she had killed too. However, the main difference was that it had never been out of petty revenge. Instead, it had always been in the line of duty, the last option, to save a life, kill or be killed. She had never taken it as being the easy and quick way out of a situation. And each and every time it had weighed heavily on her heart. She had developed her own ways of coping with it and always hoped that it would never come down to such a situation again. Though, she always knew that sooner or later, it invariably would.

Lisbon also knew the team was wondering why she was being a little grumpier than usual, more snappish and prone to lash out. She also wouldn't have put it past them to realize that she was making a few more uncanny hunches and suppositions than usual. The CBI generally tried to hire the best and all the members of her team were pretty sharp individuals. Even Van Pelt, who was still very green behind the ears, had probably realized that something was going on, though none of them would know exactly what.

Assuming that your boss was being stalked by a ghost wasn't exactly the first thought people would have, after all.

She was just relieved that Angela remained relatively quiet on the journey to the victim's home, however. That was a small mercy if ever there was one.

When they arrived, Lisbon was surprised at just how spacious the apartment was. Considering the victim's age, it seemed a little incongruous. Then again, assumptions, especially in police work, never did anyone any good. He could quite easily have inherited a large sum of money from an elderly relative or won it through gambling. Both were perfectly legal reasons for somebody of his youthful age to already be living in such an expensive and well-kitted out apartment.

She quickly assigned the others tasks. Rigsby, the open space lounge/diner, Cho and Van Pelt, the study and she disappeared into the master bedroom. Who knew what secrets this man held in his closet? Especially if, as Angela had suggested, he was in contact with Red John.

Lisbon knew that Angela had followed her. The woman didn't even need to be speaking for her to instinctively know. She kept quiet, but Lisbon could almost feel her eyes on her at all times. She hated it; it meant that somehow, she was getting more and more connected with the ghost. What she really wanted was to be left the hell alone, to be allowed to get on with her job (and her life) in peace and quiet. Instead, all she seemed to get was grief.

Besides, it was very distracting trying to work with somebody's eyes boring into her.

It didn't take Lisbon long to find a small safe in the bottom of the closet. It had been obscured from view by several items of clothing and a couple of duvet covers. Obviously, this man didn't want people finding it any time soon. Lisbon grinned slightly as she knelt down in front of it. The problem was going to be trying to break the code. She knew that she might have to call for a specialist, unless of course, the man had used one of the most common codes and the key was on the bunch they'd taken from his body.

Whispering a quiet prayer, Lisbon sifted through the keys one by one. She smiled triumphantly when one fitted. There was a click. She'd done it.

"Go on," Angela urged her, speaking for the first time in over an hour.

Lisbon opened it. There was nothing of obvious interest. Some paperwork which looked like it needed further investigation, a few out of date credit cards and some expensive looking jewelry. Lisbon frowned when she realized that they were all women's.

"Hey, that's my necklace!" Angela said loudly, causing Lisbon to jump. "Patrick gave it to me on our first Christmas together."

"Are you sure?"

"Of course I'm sure," Angela said, almost patronizingly. "I'd recognize it anywhere. I'd wondered where it had gone to."

So, they had an obvious connection to Angela Ruskin, thanks to the safe. That was better than no clues at all. At least she could get Jane to verify Angela's ownership of the necklace next time she called him into the office. But it still didn't prove what Angela had been saying; that he had a connection with Red John.

"Boss?"

It was Van Pelt. Lisbon stood and turned to face her rookie.

"I think we've got something."

xxx

"I told you so," Angela said, sounding altogether too triumphant.

"No need to sound so proud."

"I told you he had a connection with Red John."

"You didn't mention the possibility that the man you killed was a hitter though," Lisbon said, sounding altogether far too grumpy.

Angela perched on the red couch. She couldn't quite see what Lisbon's problem was. The man who had died at her hands had done abhorrent things. If anything, it was a good thing that he was dead. He could no longer hurt or maim or kill any innocent people. And it wasn't just the murders he'd committed; Rigsby had discovered a side-business in dealing drugs. Angela automatically presumed that this man had been Danny's dealer. That he was the reason why her brother had fallen so far off the straight and narrow.

But it had still taken Lisbon's team two days to piece together all the information they'd found in the apartment, Angela knew that. She had watched with eagle eyes as they'd worked out that the man had been paid multiple times to kill for various people, her brother included. That was the kind of closure she had expected to need to sort out this mess, but obviously it hadn't been enough.

Mostly, because it was becoming increasingly clear that her brother and the hitter hadn't been the real threat. The _real_ threat had been Red John all along. He'd been the one who had wanted someone dead. And from the hitter's reports, she hadn't been the target.

It had been Jane all along. But because she had stubbornly refused to co-operate, it had cost her her life. The only silver lining she could see was that it had saved Jane's as a consequence. For now.

Lisbon was growing increasingly concerned. If Jane had always been the intended target, that meant he was still at risk. Red John was still out there and most likely, still after vengeance. Her death alone wouldn't be good enough, because that wouldn't have been what he wanted. And that meant that Angela still had a purpose, as such, to be on this planet. It meant that she still had a reason to want to be here, instead of moving onto wherever it was that ghosts went. She didn't know, she'd never followed the whole religion thing.

But what she did know was that she had been doing an excellent job at helping Lisbon unravel the case.

And as a result, that meant she owed her. That meant she had leverage, a reason to try and persuade Lisbon to help her with something else.

Something which would help a man in very desperate need of help. Somebody that hadn't had anyone answer his distress calls for years.

So, she told her as such bluntly and directly.

"Oh, please," Lisbon said with a smirk. "We'd have found it out anyway."

"I told you where the gun he'd used to kill me was."

"We'd have found it anyway," Lisbon retorted.

"How?" Angela enquired.

"Call it a hunch."

"Liar."

"You're right. We would have found it through our thorough and methodical search of the apartment."

"But I sped up the process, right?"

"Yes, you did," Lisbon conceded.

Angela grinned. This wasn't the point she had been trying to make all along. She was still coming up to that.

"I still think you owe me."

"I think I should remind you that I just closed your case," Lisbon pointed out. "You should be thanking me."

"Only because I killed him and handed him to you on a silver platter,"

Lisbon rolled her eyes. Angela took that as a sign that she was wearing thin. That she was going to admit defeat any time soon. Sometimes, Jane's skills (along with the ones she'd picked up herself on the carnival circuit) were incredibly useful. It meant with somebody as completely and utterly honest as Teresa Lisbon, it was quick and easy to persuade them to do certain things.

"Okay, so you may have helped. A little."

"So…"

"So?" Lisbon echoed.

"What are you going to do to help me now?"

"Don't you think I've done enough?"

"No."

"Go on," Lisbon said, sounding dubious.

Angela explained as quickly and concisely as she could. As she did so, the CBI ghost himself joined them in Lisbon's office. It was the first time she had seen him there, and she felt more than a little comforted by his additional presence. Especially so when he nodded approvingly at parts of the tale and helped her out when she missed things out or didn't know an important detail. Lisbon listened attentively, and Angela was glad. It made her feel like she was taking her seriously at least.

"Why can't I hear him? Why can I only talk to you?"

He whispered an explanation in her ear. "He says it's because we're a quirk of nature. This isn't meant to happen."

"Oh joy, so I'm stuck with you because something's wrong?"

"Yes."

"And what's his name?" she asked.

She grinned as she watched Lisbon pulling out her pocket notebook, ready to put down some notes.

"Eric Leverson."

**TBC...**


	16. Chapter 16

**A/N: **Thank you to Ebony10, lolly2222 and my mystery Guest for reviewing part fifteen.

x tromana

* * *

><p><strong>Part Sixteen<strong>

"So Mr. Jane, to what do I owe this pleasure?"

Jane could tell that Virgil Minelli meant 'pleasure' in the loosest of terms. What he was really thinking was that he'd been messing them around, been so indecisive, that it was driving him a little crazy. Not to mention that it was wasting a considerable amount of his time and not to mention resources. Really, it was probably getting to the stage where Minelli would rather have not heard back from him at all, except maybe to thank the CBI for closing the case involving Angela's death.

Minelli himself had been the one to inform him last night. Jane had been more than a little disappointed that Lisbon hadn't told him; after all, she had promised to keep him updated. However, he didn't need to be a psychic to know that she was a very busy woman and her time was precious. As far as she was concerned, her need to contact him was over the moment she had signed off on the paperwork. After all, she still believed that he didn't want to work for the CBI anymore. That he had been so mortally offended by her attempt to cold-read him that he'd rather not face the bureau again.

However, now that he could finally lay his thoughts about Angela to rest, it had only piqued his interest further. He wanted to know what had caused Lisbon to try such a thing. He also wanted to know if there was any grain of truth in what she'd done. If it was just in her head or if there was something more involved. Just because he staunchly opposed the belief in the supernatural, it didn't mean he wasn't willing to have those beliefs tested. And Teresa Lisbon provided him with the most obvious guinea pig. She seemed like she genuinely believed she had spoken to Angela post-death and therefore, he had a chance to work out why. There was nothing that Jane liked less than things he didn't know, especially when they were in his field of expertise.

"Firstly, thank you for closing Angela's case."

"Just doing our job," Minelli replied as he brushed it aside with a wave of his hand. "But that's not why you're here, is it, Mr. Jane?"

"No it's not."

"You want to work for the CBI again?"

"Yes."

"Well it isn't going to happen."

Jane's face fell in response. He'd known that his reasons to see Minelli had been transparent, so he hadn't been surprised that the man had immediately brought it up. What had surprised him was just how quickly he'd shot him down. Virgil Minelli hadn't even given Jane a chance to put forward his point of view. Instead, he'd been given a straight no. And that annoyed him no end.

"But…"

"Look, Mr. Jane," Minelli said, with the tone that suggested years of experience at placating people. "You're still mourning the loss of your fiancée. You're not _ready_ to work for the CBI. Being in this building alone brings back too many memories. Maybe in a few months' time, when you've faced them…"

"But I want to offer my services now."

"I'm not going to change my mind," he said firmly. "I'll contact you in a few months and if your decision hasn't changed…"

"I'm not going to be able to persuade you, am I?"

"No. And don't you dare try any of your psychic mind games on me, as impressive as they are."

"Very well," Jane acquiesced, albeit bitterly. "You'll be hearing from me again."

"I don't doubt I will."

Jane left Minelli's office quietly, still annoyed at the fact he hadn't left with exactly what he'd wanted. Briefly, he considered campaigning to Minelli's boss. Or maybe even his boss' boss. His services weren't the kind that could be found anywhere and Jane knew it. If he could convince them that Minelli was crazy to knock back this opportunity, then maybe he would have a chance of being offered the position he'd turned done once more.

Or maybe…

He smiled slightly when he saw Teresa Lisbon approaching him. She looked preoccupied; a state of mind which she often seemed to be in. She looked up briefly and he grinned when he saw the faintest hint of a smile cross her lips. Jane had always liked a nice smile on a beautiful woman, even when he'd been besotted by Angela. He wasn't looking to replace her, not yet, and he wasn't sure if he'd ever be ready to, but that didn't mean he couldn't appreciate the physical form of other women.

But that was beside the point right now.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, with a frown.

"I wanted to thank you for closing the case."

Like Minelli, she looked dubious.

"And to ask for your help."

"Oh really?"

"Yes, really."

"Well, I'm a little busy right now…"

"It'll only take five minutes."

The slight sag in her shoulders suggested that she had given up, but equally that she felt like she'd been asked for too much of late. Still, Jane couldn't help but be partially relieved. Quietly, he followed her back to her office, but not without a quick wave to Van Pelt, who had spotted him from her position in the bullpen.

"Well?"

"I want to work for the CBI again."

"Why?"

"Maybe I want to spend more time with you?"

She snorted; a very undignified sound, but quickly regained her composure. Jane watched as she eyed him warily, trying desperately to work out the catch.

"Don't give me that. I thought you believed I wasn't telling the truth about Angela?"

"I don't know what to believe right now."

"Oh really?"

"Besides, there's something you're not telling me. Why didn't you tell me the case was closed?"

"Because it's more complicated than Minelli believes."

"Complicated how?"

"We have reason to believe that Red John is involved."

xxx

He'd promised to tell Danny that as soon as he'd heard anything about Angela's case that he'd keep him informed. Jane knew that he owed him that, at the very least. After all, she was his closest family and he knew that she meant the world to him. Her loss had been devastating to Danny; the man was often moody and antagonistic, but since Angela's death, he'd grown even worse. Jane could hardly blame him; his own mood ranged from moderate highs to desperate lows within the space of one day these days. It was getting marginally better as time passed by, but it was a slow process.

And truth be told, what seemed to help him most was having such close contact with the CBI. If anything, they were keeping him a little sane, stopping him from falling over the edge. It was that slight distraction that had really helped him. And now, Virgil Minelli was denying him that option because he'd been unable to make a logical decision. Really, it was unsurprising. He was a man struggling with grief and now, he was finally beginning to see the light at the end of the tunnel.

At least he had a plan of sorts now.

Lisbon's revelation had unnerved him. To hear that a serial killer was involved just complicated matters. He'd initially believed that he'd be able to cast it to one side, to lock it away in his memory palace. Instead, he was now beginning to wonder if it would ever truly be over. At least the man who had actually pulled the trigger was dead and gone; it meant that any lingering thoughts about the potential of revenge could be cast aside. However, the fact that there was somebody else above the killer, someone who had orchestrated it…

Jane felt almost entirely responsible for Angela's death as a consequence. It had been his idea to go on television and goad the serial killer. What else could have triggered him to behave in such a way? Was it his way of teaching him a lesson, of showing him he shouldn't be messed with? And if that were the case, would Lisbon and her team be endangered now that they had taken on the case? Though there were things that troubled him about the senior agent, he was still growing fond of her…

He shook his head and sipped at his tea. It wouldn't be long until Danny arrived.

There was a knock at the door. Carefully, he put down his teacup. Before he'd even had a chance to open it, there was another knock. Immediately, Jane knew that meant Danny would have arrived. He was just being as impatient as ever and that was unsurprising, given what the conversation was going to be about. Jane opened the door slowly and Danny immediately brushed past him, not even waiting to be welcomed into the apartment. When the door was closed, he turned to face Jane, frowning.

"You said there was news?"

"I think you better sit down for this."

"That doesn't sound good."

"It wasn't meant to."

Reluctantly, Danny obeyed instructions and Jane immediately busied himself by making them both a fresh cup of tea. He knew that Danny hated the stuff, but as far as he was concerned, there wasn't anything better for nerves, or shock. And they were two things the both of them were going to feel quite a bit of imminently. When Jane presented him with the mug, Danny eyed it critically. He didn't say a word and instead, glared at Jane for stalling the inevitable.

"Well?"

"You're not going to like this."

As quickly and concisely as possible, Jane updated Danny on the situation. How Angela's murderer had been discovered, with drugs in his system and how his death seemed to have been a tragic accident. How the murderer had a connection with Red John and therefore, might have been involved with the decision to kill Angela. Especially so considering the fact that as well as a drugs dealer, the murderer had been a paid assassin. How Lisbon's team were going to take shifts, covering surveillance, while his life was at risk. Jane watched as Danny went a whiter shade of pale thanks to each and every revelation.

When he'd finished, Danny excused himself as quickly as possible. That was something which mildly surprised Jane and irritated him somewhat. He'd hoped that he would be able to get a second opinion from somebody who played the same mind games as he did. However, it wasn't surprising that Danny wasn't willing to share his point of view. Excepting his thinly veiled dislike of Jane, he generally held his cards close to his chest. If he was going to reveal anything, it was going to be that Jane was overanalyzing and needed to take a step back and relax.

Jane watched as his front door swung slowly shut.

Something strange was going on. He could positively _feel_ it.

xxx

Danny wrung his hands together as he waited impatiently. Nobody suspected that a serial killer and his accomplice would meet in a café, especially one frequented regularly by cops and that was half the beauty of it. With the CBI less than a ten minute walk away, it meant they were almost literally under their noses. Red John always seemed to find that simple fact particularly amusing. It amused Danny less so, mostly because it picked at his guilty conscience. If it hadn't been for Jane, he could quite easily have become an employee of theirs. He could have been joining them for coffees and bear claws, rather than waiting rather agitatedly for a murderer to turn up.

A murderer that had got his life in his hands, almost literally.

Damn it, he'd needed the drugs. Why did he have to have borrowed the money to pay for them from a loan shark instead of his sister? And why did that loan shark had to have turned out to be one of the most notorious serial killers to haunt California in recent years? Red John was certainly a Jack of all trades and proud of it.

When he'd found out that Danny was going for the job at the CBI, he'd been furious. Threatened to kill him and had even held the infamous deadly blade to his throat. When he'd lost out to Patrick Jane, he'd calmed a little, but only found a way to manipulate Danny further. In exchange for Danny's life, Red John had wanted one thing and one thing only. That was the life of Patrick Jane to be over.

The same Patrick Jane that his sister had been absolutely besotted with.

For Red John, it was simple. It was just a case of a life for a life. Jane had also gone so far as to offend him, something which had annoyed the serial killer considerably. That meant, as far as Red John was concerned, Jane had even more of a reason to die. Making Danny himself do it was just poetic justice. Not only would he have had to learn what it was like to kill, but he was going to have to hurt one of his own in the process.

That was why he'd spoken to his drugs dealer. He'd been surprised to find out that the man was also a hitter and more than willing to take up the job. Again, it was at a price. Everything cost money and this more than most. Danny's debts were spiraling out of control, but as far as he was concerned, he had no choice in the matter. He couldn't literally murder Jane himself. However much he loathed the man, he didn't have the stomach to kill anything larger than a spider. But Jane still needed to die, with his clientele list transferred to Red John's hands. It was just that Red John couldn't be bothered to do the dirty work himself and wanted to see just how far he could push Danny.

It was when it all went wrong that he started to panic.

His sister, his precious sister, the one person who meant _everything_ to him had been the one to die. His murderer-for-hire had killed the wrong person. And Red John hadn't stopped breathing down his neck since.

And although it was illogical, Jane's mention of the cop lady doing a cold reading of him, saying that Angela's spirit had clung on had unnerved him. What if there was some truth in it? Despite the fact he was a (rather lousy) fake psychic, it didn't necessarily mean that there weren't people blessed, or cursed, with the gift. You had to keep an open mind, sometimes. And it all grew worse when Jane mentioned that they realized that Red John was somehow involved, though he wasn't quite sure how or why. They'd all been so careful, so how the hell had they worked it out?

Unless, his dealer and hitter had direct contact with Red John and since his passing, they'd discovered something in his apartment.

He hoped that wasn't the case.

"Mr. Ruskin."

Danny jumped at the sound of a familiar voice behind him. He turned around, shaking ever so slightly. Red John smiled at him and pushed his glasses back up his nose. As far as the rest of the world was concerned, he looked like a completely ordinary businessman. There was nothing suspicious about him whatsoever. It was Danny himself who was acting strangely.

"I can't do it," Danny spluttered. There was no point in dancing around the issue.

"You can and you will," Red John replied. "Because otherwise…"

He made a slight gesture, one that nobody else would have understood. However, Danny knew the meaning immediately. If he didn't carry it out, then he would be the next victim of the infamous serial killer. The next body heading to the state morgue in a black body bag, courtesy of Red John.

"I still expect payment, Mr. Ruskin," he continued as Danny eyed him warily. "Within twenty-four hours, too."

**TBC...**


	17. Chapter 17

**A/N: **Just two more chapters and an epilogue left to post of this one...

x tromana

* * *

><p><strong>Part Seventeen<strong>

Lisbon glanced at her watch. Seven thirty-two p.m. That meant she had just over an hour until she needed to leave and relieve Van Pelt and Cho of duty. They had been more than happy to take the first stakeout duty over at Patrick Jane's apartment and she'd been happy enough to let them do it too. While she didn't mind talking to Jane, part of her found it exhausting too. Whether or not he was actually a psychic, she sometimes found it exhausting trying to keep up with him. Knowing that he could read people like an open book was incredibly disconcerting and not something she particularly liked. Everybody had skeletons in their closet and she was more than happy for hers to stay put. She certainly didn't want somebody she barely knew digging them out and scrutinizing them with a fine tooth comb. Taking the night shift meant that, theoretically, Jane would be resting when she would be keeping a lookout for anything untoward.

However, in the meantime, she had more important things to worry about. By a wing and a prayer, she had managed to convince Minelli to open up the Leverson case again. She knew he was getting a little sick of her using the same excuse time and time again, but what else was she meant to say? An anonymous tip off made it far easier for her to cover her own back than saying a ghost was stalking her did. If she even dared to say that, it would have been a matter of minutes before Minelli had her sent for psychiatric help, if only because such a claim was so ludicrous. Lisbon was aware that Minelli was a religious man; he occasionally attended the same church as she did, but that didn't mean he was any more accepting of the theory of ghosts. If anything, it meant that he was less likely to accept the reality of her current predicament.

Still, she had promised Angela, and by default, Eric Leverson, that she would at least take a look at his case and try and close it. Even if Eric Leverson wasn't really haunting the CBI building, it would still be good to close it. For some reason, the media always loved it when a case that had been cold for a significant period of time was closed. It meant that they looked like they actually cared about the past and bringing people to justice, long after everybody else had forgotten about them. And a fresh set of eyes always helped. Besides, she was a woman of her word and didn't want to let her down. Angela wasn't quite as irritating as she always made her out to be, after all.

Lisbon frowned as she scrutinized the paperwork in front of her. All the information supplied seemed fairly watertight. Leverson had no obvious enemies, no wealth or expensive material goods to speak of and he certainly hadn't been in the wrong place at the wrong time. Theoretically, he should have been at the absolutely right place: where else would be safer from murderers than just in front of a policing organization? However, the man had still been killed. And the case had never gotten anywhere. It had ended up going cold and being shut away in the archives. There had been less and less hope of it ever being closed as time marched onwards.

But there was one fatal flaw in the case. She almost smacked herself on the forehead, literally, when she realized it. While all the civilian witnesses had been interviewed, including the man from the coffee cart and the secretary who had seen it, none of the cops who had been present had actually made their statements. Had they simply gone missing, gotten lost in an incomprehensible filing system? Or had they been actively missed out on purpose?

The case dated from before Minelli's time; he'd said as much during the brief meeting she'd had with him about reopening the case. That meant the only way she realistically had of tracking down the required information was by getting a hold of the officers who had been involved in the case when it had first landed in CBI hands. It seemed ludicrous that they hadn't recorded their own thoughts and findings about the case, especially as one of them had been named in the witnesses list. Lisbon knew that if she made such a mistake, then her job would be on the line. Such oversights simply weren't allowed in the CBI these days.

Still, time was marching onwards. Really, she had to leave and get to Jane's apartment imminently. And in the morning, she knew she'd been in no fit state to talk to any persons of interest. Filing away all the information, she made a mental note to pass on her findings to Cho. He was a capable agent and would be able to take over in the morning. She could trust him to ask the right questions at the right time. There was a reason he was her trusted interrogator, after all. And besides, the case had been left open for so long that another twelve hours or so stalling wouldn't make too much of a difference as to whether or not the case was closed.

xxx

Angela was worried and justifiably so.

This situation was so complicated. The person who had murdered her had links with a relatively famous serial killer. And her own brother appeared to be in contact with the both of them. It was a sordid mess, a triangle of deceit and lies. Did Danny have something to do with orchestrating her death? Was it because he really didn't like Patrick Jane and didn't approve of their impending union? Did she die because of what Jane had said on television? Had the serial killer taken offense and asked the hitter to do his dirty work for him, simply because he couldn't be bothered to do it himself?

And why, why had Danny gotten himself into such a mess in the first place?

She desperately wished she could help him. That he'd talked to her. Angela had money hidden away for a rainy day. If she'd known, she would have been more than happy to give him the help and support he needed. Well, not happy, exactly. She'd have been absolutely livid about the fact her brother had been so reckless and stupid. That he'd tried to throw away his life, without a single thought for all the people who cared about him. Just because she was in love and making a life for herself, it didn't meant that she didn't have time for her baby brother too.

Instead, she just made do with watching him pace around his apartment, looking incredibly stressed. She'd tried talking to him, almost automatically, but knew that he wouldn't be capable of responding. It still saddened her when he didn't hear her; it reminded Angela that it was highly unlikely that she would ever be able to hold a conversation with him again. Eric (or the CBI ghost as she still fondly thought of him as) was still reminding her that she was lucky that one person could hear her at all. However, it didn't mean that she couldn't remain ever so slightly bitter that it wasn't her brother or fiancé though.

"I'm going to do it. I _have_ to," he muttered, completely oblivious to the fact he had company.

Angela watched warily as he headed towards his safe, with a sinking feeling of suspicion. The last safe she'd seen opened had been fairly ominous and automatically, she suspected that this one was going to be a hell of a lot worse. These were secrets her brother kept hidden from the world; there was a reason why he didn't want people to know about them. When he pulled out a small handgun and, with shaking hands, loaded it, she felt sick to her stomach. Not that she could physically be sick; it felt like an age since she'd last been capable of eating, never mind having actually consumed something.

As far as she was concerned, guns only meant one thing and that was murder. That was even more the case when she was ninety five percent certain that her brother didn't hold a firearms license. He had an illegal weapon and he was going to use it. Why else would he have been slipping it in his jacket pocket?

Hurriedly, she chased him outside. He looked even more nervous than he had done so before. Who the hell was he after? It couldn't have been Jane, could it? Had Red John really gotten him so under his thrall that he was going to kill for him? Why would he do such a thing? The Danny she knew wouldn't hurt a fly, never mind consider killing somebody else. It was easy enough for her to keep step with him, but it equally didn't take her long to realize her fears were justified: he was heading directly towards her apartment. The place where she knew Jane was cooped up, supposedly for his own safety. The only thing quelling her fears was the fact that he was being watched by Lisbon's agents. And if she was lucky, it could even be Lisbon herself. That would simplify things considerably.

When they reached the apartment complex, she was saddened to see an unfamiliar car present. Two agents were inside it: the rookie, Van Pelt and Cho. Neither of them would be much use if the situation went out of hand. Immediately, she was torn. Did she continue to follow Danny or did she hope that Lisbon would arrive soon and take over from those two on stakeout duty? She had informed her that she was doing the job tonight and it was nearly nine p.m. already.

Two minutes of dithering and she'd lost sight of Danny. It didn't matter; she knew where he was going. However, she was relieved when a familiar SUV pulled up. She rushed straight up to it, calling Lisbon's name, but the petite senior agent seemed more intent on relaying information to her subordinates. This was annoying. Didn't she get that this was a life or death situation? Angela knew that she should; she was a homicide detective. Dealing with death was meant to be her forte.

If she didn't hurry up and give Angela her full attention, then she knew that Lisbon would have yet another case file to deal with. And there would be another avoidable death to rest heavily on top of her shoulders.

xxx

"Danny is with Patrick, you have to _hurry_."

"Why?"

"You know he's involved," Angela retorted.

"Yes, but I also know that Jane has been seeing your brother anyway, despite being advised not to."

Lisbon pinched the bridge of her nose. What she would give for another day of peace. However, she had a feeling that she wasn't likely to get one any time soon. She was slightly concerned about Angela's claim and there had to be a reason for her agitation. But the woman still hadn't supplied her with a justifiable reason to go in all guns blazing just yet. Lisbon knew that she had to stay calm, to face all the facts logically. Not that there was all that much logic in taking the advice of a ghost that she couldn't even physically see. Sometimes, she thought she might as well have been listening to the voices in her head, but then there really would have been cause for concern.

"He has a _gun_."

Her frown deepened. "Why didn't you say so sooner?"

"I…"

"Never mind," Lisbon retorted, rolling her eyes.

Instead, she rushed to the door and immediately demanded that Angela gave her the access code for the building. After she complied, Lisbon punched it in before running straight for the staircase. Angela questioned her decision to avoid taking the elevator, but Lisbon ignored her. She didn't have time to wait for it to arrive and besides, Jane only lived on the ninth floor. Her fitness levels meant it wouldn't take her too long to arrive on foot. Much faster than waiting for an elevator anyway. And besides, it would help get the adrenalin pumping and oxygen flowing. She needed to be operating at her best if Angela was to be believed.

And going by the majority of her previous guidance, she had no reason to doubt her.

Removing her gun from her holster, she took a couple of seconds to catch her breath at the door. If she was going to be clear and concise, she knew she had to make sure she could actually speak properly. Part of her was wondering why she was more than happy to run into a dangerous situation on her own. Realistically, she knew she should have asked Rigsby to accompany her during this stakeout or at least, have called for backup. However, she also had a feeling that Angela wouldn't have allowed her to wait for support, such was her agitation. She genuinely believed that Jane's life was at risk and well, given the woman's current predicament, she was rather like a fly on the wall. Nobody knew she was there. Heck, even Lisbon herself didn't know unless she actually spoke to her.

She didn't bother knocking; the door had been left ajar anyway. Quietly, she eased it open before slipping inside.

Jane's eyes widened at the sight of her, but she was relieved when he remained silent. Instead, she allowed herself to take stock of the situation. Angela was right: Jane was being held at gunpoint by his own brother-in-law. Danny was babbling nonsense about how sorry he was, how Red John was going to kill him unless Jane died first.

Lisbon took a step forward and a floorboard creaked. Danny wheeled around, firing the gun as he did so. She couldn't be sure, but she hoped that Jane had managed to dive for cover in time. Instead of worrying about him, she emptied the bullets in her own firearm into Danny and watched as he fell in a crumpled heap onto the floor. Angela screamed and Lisbon glared in the direction she thought she was standing. That wasn't the most helpful of interactions.

Rushing towards Jane's side, Lisbon was relieved to see he was still breathing. However, the breaths were thready and he was struggling to remain conscious. Digging out her cell phone, she dialed 911 immediately. There was at the very least one person in desperate need of an ambulance. After ensuring that Jane was as comfortable as he could be, she then closed the gap between herself and Danny. Unlike Jane, he wasn't breathing. After feeling for a pulse, she turned him onto his back in order to perform CPR. Just because she'd shot him, in order to protect herself and a civilian, it didn't mean that she didn't want to fight to save his life. Just because he was involved in the criminal underworld, it didn't mean he wasn't worth saving.

"He's gone," Angela murmured before she even had a chance to start chest compressions. "I just saw him go…"

Unlike Lisbon, Angela had the opportunity to see the ghosts of tormented souls drag Danny down to where he belonged. All Lisbon could feel was the horror and guilt at the fact she hadn't been able to get the situation under control without it costing human life.

**TBC...**


	18. Chapter 18

**A/N:**

Thanks to Little-Firestar84, Special Agent Baker and Ebony10 for reviewing part seventeen.

x tromana

* * *

><p><strong>Part Eighteen<strong>

It had taken all of her powers of persuasion, but somehow, Lisbon managed to convince the doctors at the hospital to allow her to wait for news on Jane's prognosis. She barely knew him and yet, she was desperate to hear that he would be okay, that he would recover swiftly.

That he wouldn't die.

It wasn't just that she found him intriguing, an ideal sparring partner and somebody who challenged her. It wasn't even just that she knew she'd blame herself if he didn't survive. That she'd wished she'd listened to Angela sooner or that she had been a little faster on her feet. Or that she would blame herself for his death because she had been the one on stakeout duty and he'd been in her care. It was also the simple fact that she found herself liking him more and more each time she met him. She wasn't sure how or why; a lot of his characteristics she found detestable in other men. But Jane, he had this charismatic charm about him and she found herself falling for it hook, line and sinker, much to her own irritation.

In the past, she had always been a lone wolf. She didn't want or need anyone. Her childhood had been cluttered up with responsibility for other people, with caring almost too much about others. Lisbon knew all too well what it was like to be tied down and that was something she didn't particularly want to face again. She liked having her independence, to be able to do what she wanted, when she wanted. It had allowed her to remain focused on her career, had meant she had flourished as an agent because she'd had the time to invest in it. It hadn't been frittered away on other people, wasted on people who ended up disappearing all too quickly.

Except, maybe, with Jane…

She stopped herself from thinking about that. Not only was he grieving, but his dead fiancée was somewhere nearby. Lisbon wasn't quite sure where, because she was still unable to see Angela, merely hear her, but that was beside the point. It almost felt like cheating to even consider taking her relationship any further with Jane, considering she knew the woman who was presumably the love of his life fairly well now. Well, she had to, considering she'd lived with her in her head for a good while now.

Lisbon sighed and looked at her watch. How the hell had it been almost twenty four hours since the shooting already? And why had nobody bothered to come and update her on what was happening? She'd last seen Jane shortly before he'd gone into surgery; he'd been conscious, but deathly pale. The blood transfusion he'd received almost as soon as he'd arrived had helped, but it would still take time. And of course, they had to get the bullet out of him too.

Eventually, she stood, though she heard Angela click her tongue in disapproval. But she couldn't help it; she needed to move, to stretch her legs. And she needed to find someone to actually get some information. For some reason, she suspected that it was bureaucracy that was slowing down the process rather than anything else. It was probably because she wasn't a close relative or Jane's next of kin which meant they couldn't pass on the message.

However, she was a cop, and he was involved in a shooting. She needed to get a witness statement from him as soon as possible, while the memory was still fresh in his mind.

Instead, her cell phone rang shrilly and she was almost surprised to see Cho calling. Swiftly, she answered it and felt almost relieved to hear his blunt tones on the other end of the line. It reminded her of reality and that life went on beyond the four walls of the hospital. He was probably wondering why the hell she was waiting to hear for news of a man she barely knew when she could have been at work, with them, instead.

Being Cho, he didn't bother questioning her. It wasn't his business, so he simply ignored any curiosity he had in the situation. She trusted him implicitly and his automatic respect for her and her boundaries made him easy to work with.

When he told her exactly why he'd called, she was even more surprised. They had already closed the Leverson case and were just waiting for her to finalize the paperwork. It was waiting for her, whenever she was ready to drop by the office. After he explained, she thanked him quickly before sitting down, slightly shocked.

"What's happened, who was it?"

It was the first time Angela had spoken in hours and Lisbon jumped slightly in response. She had very nearly forgotten that she wasn't on her own, that she did have company in the form of a very apprehensive ghost. Slowly, Lisbon slipped her phone back in her pocket.

"The Leverson case is closed."

"Already? But it was open for…"

"Yes, seventeen years, I know."

"How, what happened?"

"The lead agent in charge of the investigation killed him," Lisbon said in hushed undertones, aware that the information was confidential. "His wife had left him for Leverson and he was looking for revenge."

xxx

"What's going on?"

Lisbon looked panicked and Angela couldn't help but worry too. The cop looked several shades paler than she usually did and was growing increasingly unsteady on her feet. Immediately, Angela instructed that she sit down, but the woman didn't listen and instead, propped herself up against a wall, breathing heavily. Tentatively, Angela took a step forwards and instinctively reached out to touch Lisbon, to try and help her steady herself once more. When Lisbon flinched in response, Angela pulled back, surprised.

That was weird. Any time she had tried to touch somebody, to interact with them beforehand, she hadn't been able to have any response whatsoever. Apart from, of course, when she had killed her murderer. But that was different; she had been so angry, so furious then. She had been able to channel her rage and let it have an effect on the environment.

But then again, maybe that was the point? Maybe she was so worried about Lisbon that she was desperate to help? After all, if it wasn't for her, then Jane wouldn't have even had half a chance of survival. Danny would have gotten to him and killed him, without them even knowing he was in danger. If she and her team hadn't been in the vicinity of his apartment, then things could have been so different.

"Breathe, calm down," Angela said. "Call for a doctor. Get a glass of water."

"Agent Lisbon," Lisbon replied, her voice sounding significantly deeper compared to usual. "Thank you, thank you for freeing me from this curse."

Angela almost laughed. That was such a clichéd thing to come out with. Then she furrowed her brow. Despite the slightly different timbre, the voice sounded familiar. Like the CBI ghost's – Eric Leverson's. When had he arrived at the hospital? How had he known they were there in the first place? And besides, why hadn't she noticed his arrival?

And what the hell was he doing to poor Lisbon? Hadn't she been through enough of late, partially thanks to Angela's own doing? Besides, she didn't even know that that was possible. And what was it, anyway? Some sort of possession?

If all he'd done was want to thank her for reopening his case and managing to find his killer, then she would have been more than happy to pass on the message on his behalf.

"Eric, is that you?"

"Yes."

"What the hell are you doing?" she asked bluntly.

"What does it look like?"

Angela observed critically. It looked like he was causing Agent Lisbon a considerable amount of discomfort. Her eyes suggested that there was some kind of inner conflict going on. That was unsurprising, given the fact she was probably trying to fight against this invading spirit, who was using her as some sort of medium. Really, considering what she had done for him, it was quite rude. She had been the one to get the ball rolling, to get the case closed for him. To treat her like this was ridiculous. There had to be more of a reason for him to possess someone than to just say 'thank you'.

"Need to find… my daughter," he wheezed, through Lisbon's body. "Need to tell her it's…"

Lisbon collapsed and Angela rushed to her side. She attempted to take her by the shoulders, to shake her roughly, but once more, she was unable to touch her. From behind her, Angela heard a nervous cough. Standing up, she turned around to face whoever it was and grew angry when she noticed Eric standing behind her, looking more than a little sheepish about the whole situation.

"What did you do to her?"

"She's just tired. It's a draining process."

"That's not what I asked," she said angrily.

"I know."

"Then _what_ did you do to her?" she repeated.

Quickly, he explained the process. How, if a soul had contact with the spirit world, it was possible to share their mind and body for a brief period of time. However, it was always a lot for a single person to handle and required a lot of energy. Eric insisted she'd be fine the moment she had a coffee and something sweet to eat. As far as he was concerned, it was just the same sensation as skipping a meal and then going for a run on an empty stomach.

"You do know that her agents have probably told your family anyway, don't you?" Angela retorted, changing tactics.

Once more, he glanced away.

"You've hung around the CBI headquarters for how long, and that never crossed your mind?"

"I'm sorry," he muttered guiltily.

"You tell her that."

Angela turned away from him and glanced at Lisbon. She was relieved to see that a nurse had come across her, was helping her onto a chair. Despite looking very sickly, especially considering how she was minutes beforehand, Lisbon fought against her. It hadn't taken Angela long to realize that Lisbon wasn't one to accept help willingly. But still, she needed it. She was probably dehydrated, at the very least and the nurse said as much.

There was a twinkling sound, like that of sleigh bells, nearby. Warily, Angela turned around to face Eric and saw that he had been enveloped by some sort of white light. He looked happy, at peace and smiled at her. It was then that she realized what was happening; that this was what he'd been waiting for years to happen to him. He'd gotten all of his answers, finished off all he'd needed to on Earth. Now, he could move on and let go of the past.

She suspected that she had seen Danny and her murderer be pulled down to hell. That meant the alternative had to exist as well. Heaven, or something like it, at any rate.

"I guess this is it."

"It is?"

"I'll see you soon."

"You think so?"

"Yes."

Her eyes didn't leave him as he was carefully guided upwards by the lights. It was only once he had completely disappeared, that she returned her attentions to Lisbon. Somehow, the nurse had coerced her into a wheelchair and she was about to receive medical attention. That was good.

Besides, it gave her time to think. She didn't want to be stuck on Earth, leading half a life (or if that), like Eric had done so for so long. Angela needed to think about what it was that she needed to finish up to gain that closure.

She had her suspicions, of course, but that didn't mean they were right.

xxx

Lisbon scowled from the hospital bed. She was feeling fine and yet, the doctor had insisted that she had stayed in for 'observation'. It was just a fainting fit, nothing more, nothing less. If it had happened at work, then she would have been sent home to rest, at worst. At best, she would have been given ten minutes to grab something to eat and drink before getting on with her day. Just because it happened to have occurred in a hospital, then the whole situation was being treated completely differently.

On the plus side, now that she was being considered a patient, people were being a lot more forthcoming about information on Jane. They seemed to have gotten the wrong end of the stick; have assumed that the pair of them were somehow involve. That she hadn't told them the full story out of respect for her (grieving) lover. Ergo, she had collapsed out of stress and worry. They had decided that telling her things meant that she was less likely to relapse and have her own condition grow worse. Still, she didn't correct them. She didn't really have the energy to argue with their misconceptions, if it meant for getting more information. Besides, she did still want that witness statement so that she could sign off the case upon her release from hospital.

And at least now, she knew that Jane was out of surgery and on the road to recovery. He had even regained consciousness and was asking if she, of all people, was okay. Apparently, Jane had been convinced that she, too, had been injured in Danny's blind shooting.

Lisbon couldn't help but feel more than a little touched by the fact he was actually showing some care and concern for her too. It made her consider the fact that her initial judgments of him, based on that research she'd done a while ago now, must have been wrong. He wasn't as bad as she'd made him out to be. Yes, his job had been more than a little bit morally dubious, but at least he had some kind of moral compass. And at least he had been showing the inclination that he wanted to get out of the fake psychic business too.

But would he still want to join them, in the CBI? The pay wasn't anything like what he was used to, for a start. Then there was the simple fact that he'd already had one brush with death, thanks to his own future brother-in-law, who was now deceased. That could easily have been enough to put him off the concept of offering his services to the police for life.

"How are you feeling?"

Lisbon glanced around warily, before realizing that it was Angela who had asked. Of course she wouldn't see her; she was a ghost. She hadn't ever had the ability to see her during this bizarre incident, so it wasn't surprising that she couldn't right now either.

"Fine," Lisbon answered dubiously. "Why?"

"No reason. Just wondering."

"There's something on your mind."

"Excuse me?"

"I can tell, in the tone of your voice."

"Oh really?" Angela asked skeptically.

"Yes, really."

"Do you know what happened to you?"

Lisbon rolled her eyes and confirmed that she did. It wasn't a sensation that she particularly enjoyed the feeling of and it was certainly one she didn't want to face again. However, if she did have these (somewhat ridiculous) newfound skills and if Angela wasn't a strange one-off, then she feared she might have to.

And going by the tone in Angela's voice, she suspected it might have to be sooner rather than later.

"No, no way," she said, as she realized what Angela was going to ask.

"I didn't say anything!"

"You were going to!"

"I was going to what?"

"Ask if you could use me to speak directly to Jane. Like Leverson did."

"Do you always refer to people by their surnames?"

Lisbon brushed aside the question immediately. It didn't matter. "Do you know how tiring it is?"

"Well… I just saw."

Her shoulders sagged slightly. She could tell that Angela really wanted to be able to talk to her fiancé one last time. That having Lisbon pass on the messages for her just wouldn't be the same. And that she was the only person in the world who would be capable of doing such a thing for her. Mumbling incoherently, she pulled the thin sheet over her shoulders.

"Not yet, not now. Maybe later," she muttered.

"Thank you!" Angela replied, almost squealing as she did so.

"I haven't agreed to it yet!"


	19. Chapter 19

**A/N: **Just an epilogue to go now.

Thanks to: Special Agent Baker, fseventh, Little-Firestar84 and lolly2222 for reviewing part eighteen.

x tromana

* * *

><p><strong>Part Nineteen<strong>

It had taken her a while, but just twelve hours later, when she had been released from hospital, Lisbon agreed to Angela's request. Angela, naturally, was thrilled. However, her excitement was dampened somewhat by the fact that Lisbon had insisted that it had to wait until Jane was in a fit state to talk to her.

That was understandable, though. Angela had split her time between watching Jane and Lisbon while at the hospital, checking that both of them were doing okay. While Lisbon, naturally, was in a far better state, she yearned to be able to touch Jane and comfort him. It was obvious that he was in a significant amount of discomfort and yet, there was nothing she could do about it. She couldn't even just say a few comforting words or gently clasp hold of his hands. He slept fitfully that night and she wished that he could just get a peaceful night's sleep. Jane needed it - that much was obvious.

Still, at least he was on the road to recovery. At least he hadn't died. Despite the fact she had already been dead, technically, for a while now, she hated the concept of her loved ones dying too.

Angela couldn't help but think about what had happened to Danny. How he had been dragged down to hell. Had he really deserved such a fate? Surely all that had happened was that he'd fallen off the straight and narrow, made a few foolish mistakes. That didn't make him evil did it? Somehow, she managed to ignore the fact that his actions had led to the deaths of several people. If he hadn't gotten involved with Red John, then she wouldn't have died. If she hadn't been killed by his hit man, then she wouldn't have exacted revenge on him. Then Jane, his original target, had nearly died too. And for what? Because he had to answer to an obviously evil man? Because Danny had hated the fact she had transferred her attention from himself to Jane?

If the whole heaven and hell thing was decided upon how many stupid mistakes someone made, what was going to happen to her? She wanted closure, of course she did, but was she destined to join her brother or Leverson?

Still, her desire to speak to Jane outweighed her concern for her fate. The fact that there was an afterlife at all had been something of a revelation, so anything more wasn't worrying her as much as it probably should have. Besides, when they died, most people didn't have a chance to say goodbye properly, to tell the person they loved not to cling onto them, not to let their death consume them. As she had that chance, she was going to grasp hold of it with both hands.

And when the alternative was letting her spirit get stuck on Earth and become consumed with bitterness as it had Leverson, she knew that really, she ought to accept whatever happened to her. This was something she needed to do.

"Are you sure it's wise you going back to work so soon?" Angela asked as she followed Lisbon into the CBI headquarters.

"I'm fine, honestly."

"Why do I get the feeling that that's what you say to everyone?"

"You know, you're beginning to sound like Maria."

"Ah, _Maria_."

Angela had been there when Lisbon's friend had picked her up from the hospital. The bubbly woman had looked panicked, horrified at Lisbon's hospitalization. She had immediately started lecturing her about the dangers of becoming a cop, asking her why she had to do such a thing. When Lisbon had said that she had been fine, that she had only fainted, Maria had looked temporarily embarrassed before starting up again. The contents of her lecturing had, instead, been replaced with comments on how Lisbon should really look after herself and make sure she ate three square meals a day. And of course, take some time out for herself, because she never seemed to do that.

"I thought you were going to stick by Jane's side anyway?"

"He's sleeping."

"And?" Lisbon questioned, unable to notice Angela's flinching. "It's not as if he would have known you're there anyway."

"That's not fair."

"I know, I'm sorry."

"No you're not," Angela replied and Lisbon shook her head. "Do you know when he's being discharged?"

"No, do you?"

"Would I have asked you if I knew?"

Lisbon shrugged. Angela understood her concerns, why she had insisted upon waiting. She was still feeling a little shaky after collapsing the night before. And besides, Angela knew what Jane was like. He still hadn't accepted that it was her speaking to him, via Lisbon. That she did indeed have some strange gift that had allowed them to communicate. One that he had spent years pretending he had and believed that everybody who claimed they did was a fraud, as a consequence. He simply didn't have the energy or the mind frame to have his beliefs challenged in such a way while in hospital. They had to wait; it made sense.

It was just frustrating and time consuming, that was all.

xxx

Lisbon found herself having to apologize profusely to Jane for what she was about to do. She had taken Jane home, had insisted upon being the one to drive him there after being released from hospital. After all, she had spent a good two weeks listening to Angela talking at her about him, about what they were going to do. As far as she was concerned, the sooner it was done, the better. Then, at least, Angela would stop bothering her.

That was if she'd be capable of taking hold of her body at all. From what she knew about Eric Leverson, he had been a ghost for a long while, had waited for closure for what seemed like an eternity. It was only natural that he picked up more tricks than somebody who had been dead for a mere three months or so. But if she didn't, Jane would then be even more convinced that she was completely and utterly crazy…

Maybe they should have done it when he was still in hospital? At least then, if it hadn't gone to plan, she could have brushed it aside as him hallucinating. That it was a side-effect of the drugs he'd been given to combat the pain.

Jane just looked confused. Which, considering who he was and what his skills were, was surprising. From what she knew about him, Jane was never surprised. He always had a plan, an ace up his sleeve. Things just didn't take him off guard. Except this, of course, was challenging his core beliefs and that was something that nobody could prepare for.

When he was settled down on his couch with a cup of tea, she stood in the middle of the room with her hands planted on her hips. Lisbon knew that Angela was around there somewhere, but she couldn't have been sure exactly where.

"Go on then," she muttered nervously, seemingly into thin air. "Get on with it."

As Angela stepped inside of her, she felt as if the world had suddenly gotten several degrees colder. There was that familiar battle, the one which demanded who controlled what. At least, this time, she had time to mentally prepare herself for it. To allow Angela the control she needed in order to speak to Jane. She just hoped that it wouldn't be as exhausting as it had been last time. That knowing it was going to happen would mean she wouldn't feel as terrible as she had done so beforehand.

And at least it seemed to have worked...

"Patrick?" her voice was not her own, of course it wouldn't be.

It was Angela's.

"Agent Lisbon? Are you o-"

Angela shook Lisbon's head, smiled and took a few steps closer.

"Oh, Patrick…"

"Angela?" he said with a frown.

How the hell was that possible? As far as he knew, Lisbon had never met Angela, so how on Earth was she managing to project her voice in such a way? It wasn't exactly the same as his dead fiancée's, but it was close. Close enough, anyway.

"It's me."

Jane was relieved he was sitting down. It was disconcerting, seeing Lisbon and hearing the voice of the woman he loved instead.

"Close your eyes," she instructed.

Jane complied immediately. It surprised him that he did so, but there was something in the tone of voice (_Angela's_ voice, not Lisbon's) that made him do so. She was something of a weak spot to him; he'd never been able to say no to her. And besides, he'd been so desperate to hear her voice again that she could have asked him to do literally anything and he would have done so willingly. This wasn't meant to happen. It was impossible; it couldn't have been happening.

Maybe it was just the painkillers. Despite being discharged, he was still on a pretty hefty dosage. That was something which was going to be addressed at his first physical therapy appointment.

A deft hand stroked his arm and it was seconds before he felt the heat of her breath against his collarbone. Jane sighed slightly and tried to switch off, to enjoy the sensations. Angela moved Lisbon's hands up his arms and slowly, tentatively cupped his face. Instinctively, she allowed their lips to meet, her tongue urgent and desperate. Jane hadn't ever thought he'd be able to kiss his fiancée again and obviously, she had thought that she would never be able to touch another human being again.

She had no compunction about abusing somebody else's body to do just that.

Except, it took a few seconds, but Jane's mind kicked in. He couldn't do this, it was wrong. This wasn't Angela. This was a woman he barely knew. Admittedly, she had saved his life, but still. That didn't mean he could do this, especially as he was recovering from being shot. Yes, he was now (somehow) convinced that it was Angela talking to him, she was doing things to him that only Angela ever did. That thing with her tongue, for a start… It was certainly not Teresa Lisbon pulling some kind of stunt; she just wouldn't know that kind of detail. However, that didn't mean they could do this. It was unfair of them to expect Lisbon to do such a thing for the pair of them, especially after all the hassle they'd caused her at work.

He pushed her away.

"I'm sorry."

xxx

When Jane opened his eyes again, Lisbon was sitting on the floor, looking absolutely spent. Angela was standing beside her, wearing what she had been on the day she died. She looked ethereal, beautiful. Just as she had always done so when she was alive. He watched as Angela tucked a hair behind her ear and took a step closer to the couch. Jane grabbed the cup of tea that Lisbon had kindly prepared for him and took a long drink from it. Really, he needed something a little stronger than this, but his doctors had advised him against mixing alcohol with his medication. Tea would have to do for now.

"Will she be okay?" he asked Angela dubiously.

"I'll be fine, thank you," Lisbon replied quietly, resting her head gingerly against the coffee table. "Just ignore me."

"It's just tiring," Angela briefly explained.

"You're not a figment of my imagination?"

Angela laughed. "No, darling. It's real."

"You mean to say…"

"We were wrong," she answered with a noncommittal shrug.

"Right."

Angela glanced upwards and Jane did the same. Flashing lights once again, coming down from the ceiling. He looked back at her face and cocked his head quizzically. Angela smiled back at him.

"We don't have long," she muttered.

"Can I touch you?"

"You can try."

He reached out and his hand went straight through her form. Jane couldn't mask the disappointment in his face. At least Lisbon had been kind enough to provide them with that one last touch. One that Jane had thought was long since over, that had occurred on that fateful day when she'd been shot.

"I'll make this quick," she said.

Jane opened his mouth to retort, but Angela held up a hand to silence him once more. In response, he crossed his arms irritably but his eyes never left her. She seemed to know what the hell was going on, which was more than he did. He didn't particularly like this; being in a situation and not being the one to know everything that was going on. Jane was used to being the smartest person in the room, but it was physically impossible for one person to know absolutely everything. And Angela obviously had the upper hand this time around.

"Don't waste your time trying to seek revenge on Red John for starting all of this, it's pointless," she demanded and he frowned. "_You_ made a mistake and it was you he was after. Help her, by all means, but don't throw your life away on a pointless quest."

She indicated briefly to Lisbon, who had barely reacted to the reference of herself. Jane nodded. These were her final words. The least he could do was consider them and take them seriously.

"Don't even think about going back into the psychic business; it hurts too many people and it nearly cost you your life."

"Angela…"

"And one more thing," she said, as if it were an afterthought. "Don't wallow in self-pity, wishing I was still here. I'm not going to be, not for much longer at any rate. I know you like Agent Lisbon, that you have done since you first saw her. If something is going to happen between you, let it happen. I'd rather you both be happy than miserable without each other. In fact, I think you'd be good for each other."

Once more, Jane glanced at Lisbon who was frowning. Obviously, she was quite surprised at just how astute Angela was. She hadn't been wrong; he had very quickly developed a fondness for Lisbon. He didn't know anybody else who would have challenged his beliefs quite as bluntly as she did and he _liked_ that. Still, it was quite strange having the woman he was going to marry actively encouraging him to jump into another relationship. Despite her support, he knew he'd have to take some time to lick his own wounds before doing anything more.

The lights had enveloped her properly now. Lisbon scrambled to her feet and Jane slung an arm around her waist to support her. The pair of them watched as Angela slowly ascended. She grinned; it seemed like she was destined to spend eternity in heaven after all. Obviously, any mistakes she'd made were forgivable compared to those of her brother. Compared to those of the man who had killed her in the first place too.

"It's beautiful, Patrick, I'll miss you," she muttered. "Teresa? Look after him for me."

"Yeah," Lisbon replied, still feeling a little dizzy.

"I love you," Angela added, staring directly at Jane.

"Me too," he replied, only just loud enough for her to hear.


	20. Epilogue

**A/N: **So, here's the final piece of Causality - and the final piece of my 2011 Mentalist Big Bang fics. Just in time too, as the 2012 Big Bang is due to start.

Thanks to: SteeleSimz, Special Agent Baker, lolly2222 and 'Guest' for reviewing part nineteen.

And also a huge thank you to anyone who has followed this story. I'd love to hear your thoughts now it is posted completely.

x tromana

* * *

><p><strong>Epilogue<strong>

Naturally, it didn't take long for Jane to come to a decision. He was going to quit the psychic business and he was going to offer his services to the CBI full time. There was no more indecision; he knew what he had to do. Besides, it was a part of Angela's last wishes; he had to follow them up.

Lisbon had been the one to persuade Minelli that Jane's offer was finally sincere. Her boss had been more than aware of the increasing amount of time she had been spending with him and had eventually relented under her powers of persuasion. He was also relieved that they would finally have such a useful tool in their arsenal, one that had already formed quite an attachment to his supervising agent. That meant there was going to be less of a worry for him when it came to somebody being able to keep him under control.

And besides, she had shown him – with proof – the link between Jane and Red John. Even Minelli couldn't argue that Jane would be safer within their organization. It meant that they could protect him and he could help bring the serial killer down using legal means. It was, quite simply, a win/win situation.

On his first day at work, Jane still had certain thoughts lingering at the back of his mind. He'd read his contract from back to front several times and signed it dutifully, but that wasn't the problem. The first thing he did when he'd finished with Minelli was head straight to Lisbon's office. There was no question of him heading anywhere else. He needed to speak to her. Jane didn't knock when he arrived. Instead, he just pushed the door open and strode straight in. Lisbon was on the phone and quickly bade farewell to whoever she was speaking to. Once she put it down, she eyed him suspiciously. Jane grinned; it was definitely going to be fun working with her.

"You know, most people knock when they see a door is closed."

"Ah, but you should know by now I'm not most people, Teresa."

"Lisbon," she shot back quickly.

"Fine, Lisbon then."

She frowned as he took a seat opposite her.

"What do you want?"

"Two things."

"That all?" she quipped.

"For now."

"Well?"

"Are you still hearing voices in your head?"

"No."

"Good."

He was relieved that Angela appeared to have been a one-off, but he also knew that didn't mean it couldn't – or wouldn't – happen again. Still, there was only so much challenging of his beliefs he could handle in such a short period of time. Jane was still trying to wrap his mind around the concept of ghosts existing, around the ideas of heaven and hell. It was going to take a while before he was fully comfortable with it. Lisbon, naturally, seemed to have taken it far more in her stride. However, Jane knew that she was religious, and that probably helped her considerably.

"And?" she prompted after he fell silent for a while.

"What is the CBI's stance on personal relationships within the organization?"

Lisbon laughed slightly, but quickly brought herself back under control. Obviously, she hadn't been expecting him to put forward such a question, and so bluntly as well.

"Not acceptable," she said politely and his face fell. "Relationships between two agents within the same unit are strictly forbidden."

"Oh," he said, clearly disappointed, before thinking about what she had said and how she had phrased it. "But?"

"But these rules do not apply to civilians working within the CBI. Secretaries, cleaners," she said, with the briefest of pauses. "Consultants…"

"So, if I were interested in going on a date with Grace Van Pelt…"

"It'd be fine," she said, albeit looking slightly startled.

"But you're not, are you?"

"No, I'm not."

Lisbon's expression brightened slightly and Jane was relieved. She seemed to be getting the hint. It was still slightly too soon for them, however. Maybe after a couple more months, he'd be ready. For now, he needed to settle down into his new job, get used to all these changes to his life a bit more. The look in her eyes suggested that she would be willing to wait for him to get on the same page as she was. That she knew it wouldn't take too long.

"I have my eyes on somebody else."

He rested his hand briefly on top of hers and winked at her before walking swiftly out of her office and towards the bullpen. Jane smiled briefly at the other members of her team, Rigsby, Van Pelt and Cho, all of whom were supposed to be working but clearly, were not. Instead, they seemed more intent upon gossiping about the newest member of their team.

"Jane!"

It had only taken her a couple of seconds to start following him and she sounded annoyed. Quite possibly because he had stolen her favorite pen while distracting her and pocketed it. Or maybe, because of the insinuations he'd made. More likely, both.

Jane's eyes rested on an old, battered leather couch that lay ignored in the corner of the room. He sat down on it, testing it out gingerly, before swinging his legs on top of it. With a contented sigh, he rested his head on the arm rest and stared up at the ceiling. Yes, this was definitely a good couch. He had already decided that he could see himself spending quite some time on it. That was, whenever he wasn't too busy spending time with Lisbon in her office, of course.

"Jane," she repeated, glaring at him and holding out her hand.

He rolled his eyes, rummaged in his jacket pocket and handed over the purloined piece of stationary.

"Thank you," she said in an insufferable tone.

"You know, this really is a great couch," Jane said, looking up at her.

"Whatever," she answered and stomped off.

Yes, this was the best place for him to be, he decided. And sooner or later, he would be able to move on completely, let the ghosts of his past die.

It wasn't as if he didn't have the permission to do so, anyway…

end


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